A heart that hurts is a heart that beats
We found out on Christmas Eve morning that my good friend Lisa passed away on the 22nd of December, at home with her family.
Her husband said that she didn't want them spending their money on a funeral, or putting their two kids (Shelby, who's 12, and Zachary, who's 7) through that sort of ordeal. So instead she's going to be cremated and her ashes will be scattered in the Tahoe area (along with those of her father, who passed away two or three years ago). She told Kevin to use the money to take the kids on a trip to Disney World instead, and I guess at some point that's where they'll go. But at the moment everyone is just ... devastated.
Of course, I'm sure that "devastated" is not even close to a strong enough word. The emotions I feel right now can't be more than a shallow reflection of what Lisa's family is going through. And even if there had been a funeral (my entire family would have attended, we'd already decided that, and the mere idea of it hung in the back of all our minds throughout Xmas Eve and Xmas Day) at least we had the luxury of coming back home when it was all over, of leaving the sadness and the tragedy behind and returning to our own lives. Those two kids ... don't.
Kevin says that Shelby is holding up as well as anyone can; she's had to grow up pretty fast in her short life (and I still have a lot of worry for her, despite that), but Zach - not so much. The last we heard he was outright refusing to go home again, because that's where his mother died.
I can't say I really blame him.
My heart just aches for those two. Shelby I've known since she was about a year old, and Zachary since birth. My sister was actually in the delivery room with Lisa when he was born. Our families were so close, spent so much time together, did so many things, and it kills me to be so far away now, to not be able to do anything more than send cards and flowers and make telephone calls. More than anything though, I hurt for Shelby & Zach. They were like my littlest brother and sister, my own kids.
The sheer wrongness of all this is overwhelming. They found the cancer in September, and three months later, Lisa is dead. That's it. No warning. Done. And she was only in her forties.
So again I say, be grateful that you're alive. Be thankful for the friends and family that are still with you, for every moment you have together. You never know which moment will be the last.
Her husband said that she didn't want them spending their money on a funeral, or putting their two kids (Shelby, who's 12, and Zachary, who's 7) through that sort of ordeal. So instead she's going to be cremated and her ashes will be scattered in the Tahoe area (along with those of her father, who passed away two or three years ago). She told Kevin to use the money to take the kids on a trip to Disney World instead, and I guess at some point that's where they'll go. But at the moment everyone is just ... devastated.
Of course, I'm sure that "devastated" is not even close to a strong enough word. The emotions I feel right now can't be more than a shallow reflection of what Lisa's family is going through. And even if there had been a funeral (my entire family would have attended, we'd already decided that, and the mere idea of it hung in the back of all our minds throughout Xmas Eve and Xmas Day) at least we had the luxury of coming back home when it was all over, of leaving the sadness and the tragedy behind and returning to our own lives. Those two kids ... don't.
Kevin says that Shelby is holding up as well as anyone can; she's had to grow up pretty fast in her short life (and I still have a lot of worry for her, despite that), but Zach - not so much. The last we heard he was outright refusing to go home again, because that's where his mother died.
I can't say I really blame him.
My heart just aches for those two. Shelby I've known since she was about a year old, and Zachary since birth. My sister was actually in the delivery room with Lisa when he was born. Our families were so close, spent so much time together, did so many things, and it kills me to be so far away now, to not be able to do anything more than send cards and flowers and make telephone calls. More than anything though, I hurt for Shelby & Zach. They were like my littlest brother and sister, my own kids.
The sheer wrongness of all this is overwhelming. They found the cancer in September, and three months later, Lisa is dead. That's it. No warning. Done. And she was only in her forties.
So again I say, be grateful that you're alive. Be thankful for the friends and family that are still with you, for every moment you have together. You never know which moment will be the last.