When I was a little girl, I remember my Gram having random days of crying, and each time I would ask, she would say that someone had died. Inevitably it was one of her dear friends or one of her siblings. I was young when this started, and she would say, ”Darlin’, death comes to us all and when you get to be my age you begin to go to more funerals than weddings. It’s just a stage of life.” I had no idea what she meant. Unfortunately, I am there. I am at the age that Gram was when the pain of losing takes a grip on your heart and you can’t run from it anymore. I am at the stage where my littles tell me “Don’t be sad CoCo” the same way I did for my Gram. Is it fair to say that I really hate this part of the journey? I hate the loss?

I was blessed enough to have a friend to sit with as she is at the end of the journey. I am fortunate to have the time to say, “thank you for being my friend and for always being kind”. Not everyone has a friend like that and certainly not everyone gets the opportunity to tell them that you are grateful for the time we had while our kids were growing up. The fun nights in the garage that our kids didn’t know about that was just us, or the messages when we couldn’t sleep. I am blessed to have that. I hope she felt the same. The truth is, I have all of the emotions of anger, frustration, sadness, loss, hurt for her family, hurt for her grandkids, hurt for her friends and the fact that I will always go back to “why not a dirtbag?” This world is in such turmoil that her time feels cut short because there was no warning, no big red flags, no long-suffering illness (for which I am thankful, but still…) nothing that would have led me to think she wouldn’t get better……like always. But isn’t that the way…. like always is an illusion we hang onto so that we don’t let our minds slip into the “what if’s” because God really protects us from living in the horror of the “what if”. There would be no life if every single day we prepared to die, not live. She lived. She lived in a faith that was so strong it made me less afraid of dying. She pulled me out of my pity party several times after surgeries where I had sunk pretty deep in the darkness, and she reminded me of the strength within me that only resonates from God and down doesn’t mean out. When I needed it, she said it. This time, I didn’t need to remind her of that, I needed to thank her for her unending faith. This one stings. This one sucks. No. This one is bullshit. This one is plain and simple bullshit. I know God will let me be angry because I’ve had to be before. I think I will be ok being angry for a while and maybe that will help get me through the sadness that will cloud the days and months and years ahead. Then… the anger turns to softness and gratitude.

I don’t understand the ways of the world or the ways of God or Source or the Divine or whatever you want to call it. Life is hard. Death is hard for those who are left to live in the emptiness of it. But for me, I have to believe in the promise of Eternal life. You don’t have to believe that. But I do. I believe that these beautiful souls who have walked through my journey and left impressions on my heart are not just gone. The power of their light shines in me through the laughter and the memories and the stories that I recall. It lives because my being is still breathing in and out while theirs has breathed their last. One day, when mine ceases to exist, someone may tell a story and mine will continue to live. They say that no one is truly gone until their name is spoken for the very last time. I’m glad I don’t know when that will be. But for those who I love, I speak your names a lot. You live. You live and I am forever grateful.

I didn’t think I would be this old. Somehow, I thought Gram was much older than me when this started happening to her and I was a little girl making up songs to sing to her to cheer her up. I would grab ahold of her leg and hang on tight while she cried and patted my back, just like Finn, Allie and Jon have done for me. I just knew that if I held on long enough, I could make her happy again and her heart wouldn’t be sad. I think I was right. Love can still heal those wounds. Love can still help fill those holes left from the vacancy of another.

This life….it’s hard. It’s beautiful. It’s sad. It’s exciting. It’s monotonous. But most of all it’s unpredictable. One minute you are fine and living and everything is like it is every other day, the next minute you are taking your last breath. It’s even cliche’ to say “live each day like it’s your last”. Well who has the time to do that shit? No one. We are caught up in trying to pay bills, feed kids, work, survive. Survive the things we can’t control that are continually thrown at us. If that is the last day and I am supposed to live like it’s my last, well I don’t need that pressure to!! Man!! How am I supposed to figure all of this out? I don’t think she had it figured out. I don’t think it was over complicated. I think she went to bed and told the people she loved that she loved them and that was as good as it gets. Does it get any better than that? Nope. I don’t have to go sky diving, rocky mountain climbing, or 2,7 seconds on a bull to live like I’m dying. I’m dying every day. So are you. But thank you God, that we don’t focus on that. With all of this…. I am just so thankful for my friend. I will miss her, and I will pray for those left to mourn the everyday love she showed them. That is a huge, dark and lonely void that will eventually fill with the glorious memories of her light. It takes a lot of time to be able to adjust to the darkness and realize that she will be all around them. God bless them.

Until then Chickens,

Say their names…. those of the people you miss…

Julie, Graham, Susan, Bill, Gram, Bop, Auntie, Tara, Staci, HG, Josie, John, Mernie, Becky, Joe, Rosalie, Bercy, Pop, Joan, Jean, Al, George, August, Mary… and all of the Saints I have not listed….Amen.

“If betrayal was forgivable, then the devil himself would still be sitting next to God. Loyalty is non-negotiable”