Til We Meet Again...

My friend and co-worker died this past weekend as a result of a senseless car accident.  Brandon was only thirty-one years old, a good friend (much like a little brother) with a very kind heart in a somewhat rough exterior.  He was taken away from us much too soon, but I count myself lucky to have crossed paths with him.  Brandon's untimely death was hitting me quite hard.  I found myself tearing up at random times and could not imagine how I would cope when I enterd our shared office Monday morning and didn't see his smiling face or hear him say, "How was your weekend, Jules?".  Some tough weeks and months are ahead for all of us who worked with him.

I am fifty-five years old, so I have seen my fair share of death. 

I barely remember my grandparents, most of them passing while I was just a young girl.  My Grandma Muelver died while I was in college and honestly, I was not that close with her.  I do recall driving back for her funeral in the middle of a Wisconsin winter, my tire blowing out while I was going fifty-five on the freeway, a good Samaritan stopping to help me change it, missing the funeral, and getting to my aunt's house just in time to see my relatives and shed some tears while giving and receiving hugs of condolence.  (No cell phones back then, so no way to let anyone know what was going on.)

The summer I was pregnant with Kaitlyn we attended three funerals - Lance's paternal grandfather, his maternal grandmother and my father.  Talk about a tough summer!  The thing is, while unexpected and extremely sad, all three had lived a long and full life.  (They were all well into their late seventies, early eighties.)  My biggest regret is that none of them got to meet our daughter Kaitlyn.  They would have loved her.

My mother has been gone for sixteen years.  We were vacationing in Northern Wisconsin and had rented a three bedroom cabin so my mom could enjoy time on the lake with us when we got the news.  Mom had been hospitalized the week before our vacation with pneumonia.  We were hoping we could get her out for a day or so to recuperate with us, as she was supposed to be released from the hospital mid week.  The night before she was to go home, she died in her sleep.  It was a very difficult time and hard to reconcile.  She was only sixty-nine.  Kaitlyn couldn't understand why her Grandma was gone and worried that other loved ones would leave her, too.  How do you explain death to a five year old with out scaring her?

My sister Linda died two years ago after an eighteen month battle with cancer and Lance's brother Lorin died unexpectedly this year shortly after New Years. And they are just the tip of the iceberg. Each loss takes away a little part of us, as we think about all the friends and family we have lost throughout the years.

So, why am I writing this? 

Not to depress anyone or to preach a message some are not ready to hear. 

Part of this writing is a way to help me work out my sadness over the most recent death that has become a part of my life.  It is therapeutic for me (kind of like washing down Brandon's desk Monday morning gave me a little closure and acceptance). I am reminded that life is fragile and we should take the time to tell our friends and family how much they mean to us...every day.

I believe that our time here on earth is part of a longer journey and we will see all our loved ones again in heaven.  I like to think that Brandon and Lorin have run across each other and are talking about hunting.  I picture my parents, aunts and uncles gathered around a table playing Royal Rummy.  I believe Roy and Jeff are playing in a gospel band, together again, up in heaven.  I see Linda and Karen overseeing field trips for all the children who left this earth at a young age.  I believe they are all watching over us and want us to remember them fondly, but also want us to get on with living.

So to Brandon and everyone else we have lost - thank you for being a part of our lives.  They would not have been the same without you.

Farewell for now...'til we meet again.