Living in the light

Death has been a theme in my writing for a long time. I didn’t realize I wrote about death until recently when a friend pointed it out. It’s true. My fiction is filled with all kinds of death themes, but they’re not necessarily morbid. Death is a part of life for all of us, but sometimes it surrounds us, affects us in such a way that we become a bit obsessed by it. In 2011, after I lost a dear friend to suicide, I became overwhelmed by my emotions and the one thing I knew I had to do was write about it. Aside from journaling and poetry, I wrote my first novella, and eventually self-published it. Writing has always been a part of me, has always been an outlet and a healing for me. Once I started writing about death and what happens after, it was natural that it appeared in almost every story since.

Today, I want to write about the deaths that affected me last year. Family, friends, people who meant different things to me and my life, but all of them missed and always remembered.

Last April, I lost my Uncle Paul. He was my late aunt’s husband, a man I had difficulty connecting with when I was growing up. For years, we didn’t really like each other, but we tried to have some kind of interaction when we were forced to see each other at family events. After my cousins and I were grown and the family events ceased, I didn’t see or talk to him. I saw him in 2008 when my aunt died. When I saw him crying at her grave, I felt genuine sympathy for him. But more years would go by before we connected on Facebook. He was looking for my mom during the Covid days, and I inquired about the family and his health. He shared pictures of his great-grandson, and I invited him to my home one day to give him old family pictures I found. It was good to see him that day, to show him that I was okay with him despite our rocky past. We were okay with each other. When I found out he passed away, I was struck by a pang of sadness, but was content knowing we had mended the years-long hurt between us. Life is strange, relationships are complicated, but there’s always hope.

Not even two weeks after Paul died, I was told that my wonderful friend, Al, passed away. This was a tough one because it was both unexpected but not a total surprise. Al was eighty-six and dealt with a heart condition. He and his wife, Anne (who is also a friend and a total sweetheart), had just moved from Maryland to South Carolina to be close to family. That’s a challenging and exhausting move for anyone, but for people in their eighties, it was even more so. I met Al and Anne in 2012 at The Antique Depot where we were all vintage dealers. The days I worked there, I looked forward to seeing Al’s smile. And while I worked in my booth, I hummed along to whatever fifties or sixties song Al was singing while he walked around the store helping customers. Al had several gigs singing at nursing homes and community centers. Brian and I went to watch one of his shows and were entertained by his lady admirers and many fans. We were fans too. He and Anne were wonderful friends. They watched our cat for us, we had yard sales together, they shared Easter dinners with us and Al sang for our many summer parties. He was always there, always kind, and always in love with Anne. “That’s my girl. I love her,” he would say. A truly beautiful couple and one of the best men I’ve ever known. I was blessed to call Al my friend and it was an honor being his.

In mid-June, I received the call that my cousin Kevin was gone. I knew he wasn’t doing well, was on oxygen and didn’t have a good quality of life. But this was Kevin. He wasn’t old enough to collect social security. It was wrong. I wanted to see him again. I loved being around him. He was always smiling, laughing, and he was always asking how you were and what you were up to. He never complained, never said a bad or negative word about anyone or anything. A truly beautiful soul. He lived in Ohio and I didn’t see him much, just at family reunions, but getting his hug was a highlight of each one. I was in the middle of a personal health issue at that time, and I wasn’t able to go to his memorial, but I hope Kevin knows how much I loved him (and still do) and appreciated the joy he brought to everyone who was blessed to know him.

In September, my friend Bob passed on. A regular poker player in Brian’s monthly games, I learned quickly how charming and charismatic this older gentleman was. He always stopped to greet and talk to me before he joined the game. When he learned I sold vintage and antiques, he started bringing me cool stuff to sell. And he didn’t want any money. It was for me and my business. He wanted to support my small business and I was touched by his interest and generosity. When he discovered I was an indie author and became one of my first fans, I was floored. I know that my stories don’t appeal to most men, but Bob bought Bring Me to Life, read it, and gave me a lovely review. He did the same for See Me, my poetry collection and Gia. Every month, he’d ask me how the writing was going and let me know he was waiting for more. I’ll always remember his genuine interest in my creative life, his support, encouragement and his sincere hugs.

Dot also passed away in September. An older lady who played cards with the ladies of my former neighborhood in Maryland, she was always smiling, laughing and happy to be included in our group. I was happy to be included. I was the youngest one in this group of senior ladies, Dot the oldest, but they took me in and suddenly I had not just neighbors, but friends and stand-in grandmas! For four years we played cards together, and I looked forward to catching up with all of them, especially sweet Dot. We stopped playing when Covid hit, and then I moved away. Dot and I kept in touch through email for a time, but eventually we lost touch. I heard that her health worsened, and I hope she didn’t suffer much. I’ll always cherish those card games and laughing with Dot.

Sharon also moved on from this life in September. In her sixties and on dialysis, her body gave up suddenly one day while she was in the doctor’s office. It was unexpected and sad. I met her through Lewis, Brian’s lifelong friend. I didn’t spend a lot of time with her, but the last time I saw her, we all gathered together to eat and play a mean game of Scrabble! She, Lewis and their family were Scrabble lovers like Brian and I, and we had a blast that afternoon. We were planning on another game, but will never get a chance to play with Sharon again. Sharon will be missed for her kindness, intelligence, laughter, generosity and faith. There is no doubt she is now where she belongs–at peace with God.

My cousin Karen’s husband, John, died in November. It was expected, but that doesn’t mean it was easy or hurt any less. John had a bad heart most of his life. He received a heart transplant several years ago and healed from that better than anyone expected. He was a loyal and loving husband and father, a light to everyone he met. I hadn’t seen him in over twenty years, but kept up with him, Karen and their daughter, Ashley, over the years. Brian and I drove to Ohio to attend his memorial. It was a plus to see my cousins after several years. I know John’s at peace now, but his absence will always be painful.

These are just snapshots of people who have made an impact in my life. They made an impact in so many people’s lives. I miss them and remember them every day. And I wanted to write about them. I hope they know what they meant to the people who loved them. I hope they know what they meant to me. I honor them, thank them, and will never forget them.

None of us knows what happens when we leave this world, but I choose to believe the next life is filled with peace, beauty and joy. I choose to believe the people I lost last year are living in the light without pain or worry. I hope I see them in that same light one day.