She and I played together a lot when we were growing up. I have some fun memories with her as she was the closest girl cousin to my age on my mother's side. I also remember when she went to college and I was still in high school she invited me to stay with her in Provo one night. She took me around-- introduced me to her friends and I think we went to a Divine Comedy show.
As the years have moved forward, I got married, moved away, and began a family. Our family seemed to grow each year and we stayed busy with our kids, friends, family, and church. I rarely thought about her. She never married but worked in Denver in security for a tech company. When I did see her, I didn't go out of my way to speak to her mostly because I didn't know what to say. My last memory of her is at a family dinner where she sought me out, asked about my kids and was really friendly and kind.
At her funeral I found out just how much she meant to the people around her. She had been a wonderful sister, daughter, aunt, and friend. She had numerous unfinished projects they found that she had been working on for friend's children. It was clear that she was a tremendously good person who did a lot of good for others. I overheard her dad telling someone that he felt she always felt a little on the outskirts and unaccepted by some. I realized that unconsciously I had been rejecting her because I didn't know how to relate to her, but that was precisely what she needed! Someone who is different than me for whatever reason has an extra need to feel accepted and loved. I feel really badly that I didn't make more of an effort to reach out to her and now its too late.
In the course of a few months, we also found out my sister was getting a divorce and this was really sad, too. We really love her husband and will miss him as our hearts go out to both of them. It was an emotional time as they came to get their stuff that had been in our basement and both stayed with us for a time. Just a couple days before Juan was to leave, his shed got broken into and nearly all of his possessions were stolen or ruined. He had a positive attitude in spite of the fact that he could now fit all his earthly possessions into one car. Even his personal paintings (painted in college) were stolen.
Then we heard from Colorado than an ex-boss of Miguel's had gotten killed while riding his bike home from work on his birthday. I had helped coach his daughter's soccer team when Miguel and i were first married, and he had helped us go to England, including helping us while we were there. He was always so kind and sensitive about Miguel's mom, who suffered with cancer and died a short time after we returned from England. We both really liked him and felt so deeply sorry for his wife and two college age daughters. We made a trip to Colorado for the funeral and again I wondered why I hadn't done more to stay in touch with his family.
I also realized that I made plenty of time in my schedule to go to these funerals, but hadn't found the time when these people were alive to spend with them. I don't want my loved ones to have to go that far to get my time and attention. :)
I read a friend's blog each year as she remembers her sweet baby that died six years ago. Each year I cry as I look at their beautiful son and see how much they love him. One thing that struck me that my friend said is that one of her fears through losing their son is a worry that they wouldn't be changed, that they would forget. (www.babysolomon.blogspot.com) As sad as I am about these events, I hope that I won't forget-- that I can use this to make a positive change in my life and the way I treat others.
In light of this resolution, we had some family over for our annual Halloween dinner. I called my grandma who only lives fifteen minutes away and a cousin I haven't seen for years. My cousin couldn't make it, and my grandma had some dental work fall out that morning, but she came anyway and I was glad.
My sister and I both got a chance to wear the "Elvis" wig I bought at King Soopers a few years ago. :)
No comments:
Post a Comment