Losing People

Birth is the beginning. Death is the end. In between is life. And all that contains, implies and remembered.

As we approach Thanksgiving, our family gathers. Only last year it was without my husband, Rocky. An emptiness was felt. This year we were to note the passing of Howard, Ann’s (my ex) husband of 30 years. Sadly, Ann died just as unexpectedly from pancreatic cancer in October. So, this year we will feel the emptiness of three loved ones.

That is a stark reality. One so large we are reeling. Will we gather for Thanksgiving? If so, will it be the same format at Liz and Dan’s home? Or will we go out, cater it in or do nothing. I think we will meet as usual, mourn together, and bond as the family remaining. After all, new generations will happen, and some of us will be gone from that gathering.

Some will say that life seems a bit lacking, futile even. Truly, that is not so. Each person, each generation of which they are a part, are unique, of value, and provide the sustenance of our family members. Each of us propels each other. We motivate, provide example and provoke fresh thinking and ideas. Whole new worlds open up to us. Yes, that is how important each life is.

Remembering someone’s life is a form of rebirth and continuing life. Theology offers life everlasting depending on one’s beliefs. Whatever we call it, this is a true everlasting life we can grasp. Undoubtedly, we will. A laugh, a motion, a facial expression, a tapping toe, something ordinary and every day in the life of the one now gone, will light our memories.

I remember Ann’s laugh, a true guffaw. Open mouthed, head swung back, large gulps of air and a hearty release of laughter. She did this often enough to be her signature. Her calm face in troubled times, a solid presence even when in doubt, that was another trait she gifted our family.

Death and dying is a difficult part of life. Perhaps the most difficult? The hole in our lives caused by their passing is the big thing we experience. It takes time to fill the hole with meaningful and loving grit we recall of their lives. It does come. Just not as swiftly as we would wish. The hole continues in varying degrees for years if not forever. That is the work we have to do. That is the duty of survival. To remember. To value. To continue loving.

May it become our strength and promise. We too, will be remembered in time.

November 7, 2025

 

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