I feel like I have been fortunate. Fortunate that I have lost no sisters to death. No limbs or eyes have been poked out. My family, since the death of our parents, has stayed fairly intact, whole.
Now, just like all family's we have had our share of lost loves, addicts and failures. Life has not always been rosy. Yet, since the death of my parents, just being alive sometimes is enough. Sometimes it is all I have had.
That good fortunate ended today. My parents, dead thirty-four years ago on June 15th, are now greeting my nephew, Jason. At 34 years old, he was young and vibrant and had the whole world ahead of him. Yet, this morning he died. His wife, Marcie, of four years found him. She doesn't know how or why he died. Like a good wife, she called the police and gave him CPR even though she knew by the blue color of his lips that he was dead. That did not deter her. She kept trying to get him to breath. But he didn't. And now, my dear nephew, is gone.
I learned about death early. But that doesn't help me now except I do know I will get through it. Not by wishful thinking or avoiding my feelings or pretending I'm, and everyone else in my family, is okay. That knowledge that I will get though it will help me. Eventually. But not now. Now, I cry for my sister who has lost her oldest son. I cry for my niece, Deena, and my nephew, Adam, who have lost their brother. I cry for Dean who has lost a step-son and John who has lost his only son. And then it seems I just cry. Cry for all the lost tears I did not cry for all those small deaths of my heart. For all the times I did not reach out to another in their pain. For my shame of being too small for what has been called of me, I cry.
May you be willing to reach out to someone you have rejected or hold someone close that you have scorned or forgive the unforgivable. May you do this for you. For your heart. For your soul. For love.
In memory of my nephew, Jason, may we all live beyond our fears and touch the life we are meant to live.