10 years later

October 15, 2014
Day 168

It seems so wrong that you're gone so long, but feels so right that we knew your light.

Today is the 10th anniversary of the day my mom died, and in my mind, I can't help but see one of those movie cuts where the graphic on the screen boldly announces: 10 YEARS LATER. 

It's 10 years later, and where are we now?  Homes have been bought, babies were born, other family members have died, relationships blossomed and bloomed, and sometimes ended too, people have gotten married, gone on incredible vacations, experienced life-altering issues of all kinds, and in a thousand other ways, life has just happened.  And you have missed them all...at least from this side of the curtain.

You lived over 68 years on this Earth before you left us, and for those of us who literally owe our lives to you, you were so much more than just Marilyn, Mom, Grammy, Aunt Marilyn, Mrs. Dougan, or Mrs. Brennan.  You were our everything. 

In your 68 years, you taught us all so much by smiling and loving life, despite all the many challenges and hardships you experienced.  You were 9 months' pregnant with your fifth child when at just 29 years old, your husband was killed on Thanksgiving Day weekend.  How does any person go through something like that, and still hold on so tightly to faith and joy?  You did.

But it was never your sorrows that made you who you were.  It was your love.  You hated when your children fought with each other, and cried when anyone hurt you in any way.  Through your huge heart, and years of pain, we saw the pure soul you always were, the gentle woman caught up in all the uncomfortable entanglements of life.

It's now been 10 years since you left us here on Earth, but we know you still watch over us from Heaven.  You arrived there after your heart, which had given so much for so long, finally gave out.  It loved so much, it gave until it stopped.

On the way to the hospital, you suggested the medics drive down to the beach instead.  The beach would be so much nicer than the hospital, you told them.  And then when I saw you in the hospital, I told you things would be okay, that it was good that the doctors caught this heart of yours when they did, that they'd make you all better now.  I said this a couple of times, and you just responded by saying, "You keep saying that," with a knowing that really took me back, and still does. 

You knew.  You knew this would happen, that your time to leave had finally arrived.  We know not the day nor the hour, but you knew the moment was near. 

My faith is strong, Mom, so I know I'll see you again one day, but I sure do miss you in the mean time.  You gave me everything, not just my life itself, but my heart too.  You taught me everything you knew, and hoped I'd do my best to be a good person.  I'm trying my best, Mom.  It's not easy, but I'm trying.  If I'm ever half the angel you were, I'll be a lucky guy.  Thank you for everything.  We miss you and love you very much.  Until we meet again, please protect and guide us always.