We’re having a Thanksgiving get together at my brother’s house with my Mom’s side of the family in a little bit. Something that’s not happened since we were kids, because of life.
What do people fear most about death? I asked the Reb.
“Fear?” He thought for a moment. “Well, for one thing, what happens next? Where do we go? Is it what we imagined?”
That’s big.
“Yes. But there’s something else.”
What else?
He leaned forward.
“Being forgotten,” he whispered.
Have a Little Faith, Mitch Albom
Chase and I have conversations often, trying to recollect how things used to be. It’s really disheartening when neither of us can remember what Mom used to say for certain times or things. I don’t want to forget any of the small details of the way things used to be or the way things used to happen. That’s a part of who I am, and to forget anything like that is numbing. It actually scares me that as time passes people forget. I don’t want to forget people, and I don’t want to be forgotten when I’m gone. Life’s scary sometimes, ya know?
I learned a few days ago, that a neighbor that I’ve had for my entire life has cancer…again. She had it years ago before I had any idea what the word cancer could really mean for someone. I knew she had it, battled it, and won, and that was the extent of my knowledge about her battle. She’s married, and is a wonderful person, as well as her husband. They’re good people is what we say. This is another instance in which I just want to ask why bad things have to always happen to good people. Of course, that’s a question that we can ask until we’re blue in the face and never get an answer for.
What I’m having a hard time with is what it must be like to be her, or just as much, her husband. See, as scary as learning that you have cancer is, it’s learning that you have a time left to go with it, and her doctors have given her 2 months. I am completely positive that they are both right with God, and perhaps even as scary as it could be for them, maybe knowing in their hearts that they’ll see each other again in Heaven is what will make it easier for them.
A year ago today, you took away from me one of the only people that will ever love me unconditionally throughout my entire life. You took away from me one of the only people that was always there for me when I needed to talk or needed a hug no matter what. You took away one of the only people that knew where my heart was in life and wanted even more than she wanted to get well for me to find it. You took away one of the only people at home that would actually listen to me with their full and undivided attention.
You are in part to blame too for any resentment or hurt feelings that now exists between anyone in my family, for without you taking Mom, that would have never happened. I hope you’re happy, because I hate you with every ounce of my being.
I miss you so much Mom—today and every day.
I think some of the horrible and most agonizing experiences that we are forced to go through in the end do shape us into being better people. Sometimes it may be something that makes someone put on some type of shield to become a stronger person. Sometimes it may be something that takes that protective shield down, and make that person become what could best be described as being more tender. In my case, I am more the latter now. Hearing of people going through a rough time, seeing someone’s health take the turn for the worse, or seeing someone learn of their family or friends being diagnosed with cancer or a life threatening illness just kills me now. I would describe myself as always having been a compassionate person, but with the ability to not let my feelings show or to let someone see or notice how I felt. Perhaps part of it is just part of getting older. You begin to realize that people won’t be here forever, and you never really know. We’re not guaranteed tomorrow, or even the next minute, and it stinks that sometimes it’s easy to let things get in the way and forget that. But never let life cloud that one thought.
With the heat of Summer receding for the crisp air of Fall, the evenings are perfect in North Georgia to spend the remainder of sunlight until dark on the front porch, talking. Talking about everything under the sun—work, news, the day, and most importantly, life. Even with the heat and humidity of Summer, that’s how our evenings were mostly spent, enjoying one another’s company. But as you might guess if you know me well, well all of us for that matter, we’ve not sat and talked on the front porch all Summer, and likely won’t over the Fall either. It’s just something I think we’ve all decided without even talking about it that it’s something that can never have the meaning or importance that it once did, without Mom.
Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for.
Dag Hammarskjold
Love is an action. Just saying it makes it no truer than saying the sky isn’t blue. Saying it reaffirms it—if it is there. If it’s not felt on the recipient’s end by past or current actions, then saying it is entirely pointless. Perhaps a waste of breath.
It’s sometimes easier to look at what love is not. Love is not getting angry and yelling at someone. Love is not having near non-existent patience with some. Love is not hanging up on someone out of anger. Love is not avoiding someone. Love is not hiding from someone or acting like you don’t see them. I’m a KJV guy, but some of the wording of the NIV version is wonderful, and describes entirely my feelings of what love actually is.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
This is the gist of a quick redlight conversation with the car next to us on the way home from work today:
You know, that never gets any easier—breaking it to someone that is just so full of excitement after not seeing her in years that they want you to tell her hi for them, and seeing how it hits them. It really knocks the wind out of my sails to have to be the one to tell them too. The sweet part of it being bittersweet is knowing how well liked my Mom was by anyone that ever had the pleasure of meeting her.
Everyday: so many opportunities to connect, what if you took just one?
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© Copyright 2007-2012 Shane Holden
All Rights Reserved.
