I've Lived a Good Life...

I think that it is a fair statement to say, you'll never really know your impact on the world until you're gone. My dad's funeral brought in over 300 people and that did not surprise me. He was so loved by his church family, his writer community, and his giant family. He was the story teller and everyone loved it. The thing that did surprise me, was that my mom's funeral was larger. It appeared as though every person she interacted with, she changed their lives for the better. My brothers and I were flooded with stories about how mom showed them compassion and wisdom, and gentle endless kindness. I think if you ask most people that have lost someone significant to them, they will tell you that they may have been physically at the funeral, but in all reality, they weren't at all there mentally. I remember very few things from my moms funeral. There was one moment that surprised me and shook me back into the present. As we were hugging everyone that left the chu

I'm Catholic, so I come by guilt naturally. My parents did a bang up job at instilling a strong Catholic guilt in me and it worked like a charm every time. My dad could look at me with a stern and questioning look, and I would instantly burst into tears and divulge any knotty thing I've ever done. He was a pro! A talent I jokingly aspire to obtain some day. Weeks after I lost my dad I remember feeling great guilt the first time I laughed. I instantly felt bad for feeling happy. How stupid is that? My dad was one of the funniest people I knew. He would want me to have joy and be happy. But life is this crazy, complicated mess of obligations we put on our selves. We feel obligated to sit in our own mourning, to some how prove how much our loved one meant to us. The sadder we appear, the more we loved them. I am not naturally someone who has ever had bouts of depression. My mother viewed life like there was sunshine wrapped around us at all times, even the hard times. She tau

There is a crazy phenomenon that occurs when someone is in the process of losing a loved one. All the people around you, that truly care about you start saying the most bizarre things that are designed to give you comfort, but 90% of the time they don't do that at all. You're trapped in a moment, face to face with these people, and you get an urge to either laugh in their face, burst into tears, or punch them in the nose. But instead of owning your emotions at that time, you just smile and say thank you. What a crazy world we live in. As a person from a hilarious family I look back on all these comments with great humor, and they still bring a smile to my face. I will start though with the quote at the top of this post. Many moons ago I was working for a different company and something tragic happened to a coworker, the loss of a loved one. The customary procedure for a situation like this is to send around a card where everyone writes 3 to 8 meaningful words to show their c

Those were the first words my dad spoke after he was given his cancer diagnosis, "well, I've lived a good life". There are few moments in life that you can remember every single instant of. This was one of those moments. My dad was having some indigestion and thought he should get a check up. His doctor recommended that he get a colonoscopy. I offered to drive him to the appointment with mom. The procedure was fast. We didn't think much would come of it, maybe some dietary restrictions. After my dad came to, we were just pleasantly sitting there, talking about the big news my husband and I shared with them the week before. We were 2 1/2 months pregnant with our first child. The doctor came to dad's bedside and in the most casual tone told us all, "well, it looks like you've got cancer, and it appears as though it has spread. Now I'm going to give you the name of  an oncologist that I want you to call Monday, but he's probably going to agree wi