It’s dark-thirty in the morning. The alarm goes off. It’s time to start the daily grind. I go into the bathroom, turn the faucet on, wet my toothbrush, spread some toothpaste on it and start brushing. I look up into the mirror. I look tired. I stare at the three white hairs that have started to grow along the part in my hair. All is quiet. Everyone is still sound asleep.
I start to wonder…what would be different if I were not here? It makes me sad to start thinking of not being around my girls and my husband. No more morning hellos with sleepy eyes peeking out from under disheveled bed head hair. No more bedtime stories and good-night snuggles. No more gentle kisses on warm sleeping heads as I watch my girls sleep before going to bed.
I get teary and have to stop thinking. I am thankful for this day. I will enjoy the day, be present in moments when I am interacting with those I care about, and at the end, reflect on the good things that have happened.
Why? Because life is fragile. We take it for granted. And the truth is we just never know when a lifetime will be cut short.
In September and October of 2012, two amazing women in my life passed on. Both daughters, sisters…and mothers. Beautiful, vibrant, full of positive energy, kind, warm, passionate. Both had such zest for life.
The first was one of my aunties. She was a dear friend and a mentor. I knew it was going to happen, just not when. Pancreatic cancer is cruel. I never got to say good-bye. She shielded me from the truth so that I would not know the end was so near. It saddened me so because she was the kind of person who still had so much to give to so many.
The second happened in an instant…and really hit home. A tragic car accident because a young man was texting on his cell phone while he was driving. His truck hit would have hit her car head-on. She swerved towards the shoulder of the road to avoid him and he hit the driver’s side of her car. She and her teenage daughter, sitting behind her, died at the scene of the accident. Her five-year old son, sitting on the passenger side in the back seat, survived the crash. She was about my age. And now her little boy, right in between the age of my two girls, is motherless. I wonder what memory he will have of that day?
Life can be so cruel and so unfair.
Both are tragic losses because these women were so amazing and were always giving of themselves to help everyone around them. Their legacy will live on and makes me strive to be a better person. My heart still aches when a reminder of either one of them crosses my path…the last place we were together, the smell of lavender, a certain restaurant where we ate together, finding an old note in their handwriting. I am still healing, but in a conscience way. I am more aware of my actions and my words.
Last weekend my family and I were visiting a park north of Seattle. I saw a rainbow when we first got to the park. After our stay, as we were heading back to our car, we saw two bald eagles flying side-by-side. A Native American friend once told me that when you see bald eagles flying overheard, those are your loved ones and ancestors watching over you. I thought of both of my dear friends. I have felt their presence around me since their deaths. Both the rainbow and the eagles were untouchable by me, but beautiful, just like them. This put a smile on my face and put me at ease. I felt it was their way of telling me they are okay and watching down over those they left behind.
How have you dealt with the death of a close friend?
This is an original post for World Moms Blog by Eva Fannon dedicated to SF and II. Eva can be found on Twitter @evafannon.
Photo credit to Bill McChesney. This photo has a creative commons attribute license.
Oh Eva, what a poignant post. I agree that life is so very fragile, this is why I make sure my boys know how much I love them. Every. Single. Day.
Thank you Karyn. Stopping to reflect and show my love for my family “Every. Single. Day.” — that’s the ticket for me these days 🙂
very touching post, Eva.
One of my close aunts is dying from a cancer. I am far away from it and here about the progress just from my parents, yet still it is a heartbreaking.
So sorry to hear about your aunt Ewa. I hope that she can have access to palliative care so that she is as comfortable as possible. Hugs!
Eva – this post just hit me in the heart. One of the most touching on WMB to date! I’m so, so sorry for your losses. I haven’t experienced death this close, but I try to make every day count. When I want to rush out the door for a solo outing, I stop to make sure I kiss each member of my family and tell them I love them before I go. Every moment is important. Thanks for reminding me.
Thanks Tara. I have to say, I’ve been pretty lucky in not having to experience death too closely for most of my life. My grandmother died a few years ago, but somehow it was easier to let go and accept. She was ill and suffering and had led a full life. These two came so suddenly and caught me off guard.
I’m so sorry for your losses. My greatest fear in the world is dying before my son is grown. Before I was a mother, I didn’t understand how this must weigh on parents who are ill and know they won’t make it to see their children have children of their own.
Like you, I try to be present every day and remain aware that time is not guaranteed and is something to be cherished.
Wishing you comfort and healing and many more proofs of the constant presence of your loved ones.
Thanks so much Ms. V.
I agree, I would find it to be a heartbreaking burden if I knew that I was not going to make it to see my children grow. But time doesn’t stop, and like you say, there are no guarantees, so being present in the now is the best we can do 🙂
Oh Eva, I am sorry. Life is so fragile, and thank you for this wonderful post!
Thanks Purnima.
Thank you for this beautiful post.
In the past couple of years I’ve lost my grandfather, father and father-in-law. I feel really blessed to have had the chance to let them all know how much I loved them, and to have “cleaned the slate” so there are no regrets. I totally believe that there IS “life after death” and I’m glad that they’re no longer in pain (all 3 died from different forms of cancer).
My grandfather’s name was Francesco and the new pope chose to become Papa Francesco …. coincidence? I wonder … 🙂
Sorry to hear your losses in the past couple of years Simona – that must have been hard to watch them suffer with cancer after you’ve gotten to know them for so long. I’m so glad to hear you had the chance to “clean the slate” with them before passing.
I do also believe there is some life after death. Maybe the new pope’s name is your grandfather’s way of letting you know he is okay and smiling down on you 🙂
Eva,
Thank you for telling the story of these two women. I definitely go through life thinking I am invincible. It’s reminders like this that make us feel grounded and realize how fragile we are. Life can change in a flash. I hope writing this and sharing their stories was healing.
Jen 🙂
Jen, the car crash death definitely grounded me and reminded me of how life can change in a flash. I started writing this post so many times…but yes, it was very therapeutic and helped me process and heal. Thank you for giving me a platform to do it 🙂
Eva, I am so sorry for the loss of your friends, and my heart breaks for that five year old. I was having the same thoughts about life yesterday after being called back for a mammogram, it turned out to be fine, but while laying on the table getting the ultrasound I thought about what we don’t tend to dwell on daily, the what if…. I lost my own mother to breast cancer, and my father when I was 13 so I do carry this awareness close to the surface, knowing first hand how fragile and fleeting life can be I try not to let myself think of my fear of losing my loved ones. As I pulled out of the hospital parking lot a man was laying on the sidewalk with a crowd around him and a Dr. in a white coat leaning over him, and it made me cry.
Elizabeth, my heart breaks for that five year old every day. He has been having a really hard time.
Glad to hear your mammo turned out ok, but yes, I can imagine how that brought the “what if” front and center…especially after losing your mom to breast cancer and your dad when you were at such a young age.
I think you’re right, it’s good to acknowledge that nothing is permanent in life, but also not let our fear of losing loved ones paralyze us. So, I guess we take it one day at a time. Stop, breathe, enjoy the time with those we love.
Thanks for sharing!
I am so sorry for your losses Eva. My heart breaks for your friends 5 year old. I had a similar “reminder” of how life is so short (I wrote a post about using it as a reminder to get my will in order). It is especially poignant now that we are mothers and have the responsibilities of these little ones. I just hold my little ones a little tighter, and remind them (probably more often that I should – LOL) how proud I am of them and how much I love them.
That’s right Maman Aya – I remember your will post! Sadly, it is something my husband and I still haven’t gotten around to doing, but need to sooner rather than later.
In the meantime, like you, my hugs have been a little tighter, and I have been trying so much harder to be a better communicator 🙂
Dear Eva,
I’m so sorry for your loss. I’ve often wondered if it is easier to lose someone to an illness than to an accident, thinking one might somehow prepare for the former, but I’ve decided in the end it probably doesn’t matter. I love the story about the bald eagles. My son Miles is very interested in “birds of prey” these days. I’ll have to tell him that story.
Un abrazo,
Sara
Hi Sara – I’ve thought about it too. I think it might be a little easier to lose someone to an illness — the end is more certain, it might give you more time to tie up loose ends, if the person is older, it might seem like they lived out more of their life — but in the end, it still leaves the same kind of emptiness in your heart.
Thanks for stopping by 🙂
Eva, I’m all choked up now. What a beautiful remembrance! It’s hard to come to terms with tragedies like this – especially when the people you lose were so giving. I’m not particularly religious, but somehow it gives me comfort when people say “I guess god needed an angel more than we did” It looks like the two of them both left big legacies which will be felt long after they’re gone.