33 Short Years

Writing about things that stir more than just a brief thought can be very cathartic for me.  I work through lots of emotions and my hope is that maybe you might also begin to feel a certain way about what I’m trying to work through.

I would love to be able to talk about the Presidential debacle campaign, but I don’t know enough about the candidates and their specific ideas and hopes for our country.  I’m sure I’m not alone, there are probably many people who grab onto an idea or level of mentality and decide right then and there who they would like to vote for.  I believe it’s mostly superficial.

My thoughts today are coming from a much deeper place in my heart.  Since I’ve started writing my blog, I’ve also followed a few blogs that I enjoy reading.  Some I’ve enjoyed  because I feel like it’s an insight into their own personal reality.  Some are really great reads for inspiration and others for passion and positivity.  I don’t necessarily enjoy reading fiction, I never have.  I have the Hallmark Channel on the weekends for that.

I follow this blog:  https://fightinghodgkinsblog.wordpress.com/author/marybuell/

Mary Buell fought the war that so many tragically lose.  She blogged about the real things, the intense battle that is everyday life in a world of uncertainty and struggle.  The courage that this woman showed in the face of death was unfathomable.  I can’t say that I looked forward to seeing her blog show up in my email, but I counted on reading about her optimism and funny, insightful stories.

So the other day I realized I hadn’t heard from Mary.  My heart raced as I searched through my emails, current blogs and ones that I threw in the trash…..thinking I might have accidentally deleted it.  I couldn’t find anything.  Strangely I remembered the exact spelling of her name, but couldn’t remember the name of her blog.  So I googled her.  I found her twitter and tried to determine what was going on, but all I saw was her last blog, posted February 24, 2016.  There wasn’t terribly good news in the blog, but it wasn’t bleak.  She was positive and hopeful, as always.  I was relieved, but still a bit concerned.

And then I checked her twitter account yesterday.  The picture posted was her holding her son, just a baby in this picture.  She had a full head of hair, and I knew.  I hovered my mouse over the title, took a deep breath and clicked.

She was gone.  She passed relatively quickly, having enough time to say her goodbyes.  She left a small son, just in preschool.  A husband that was with her through every single event in her life.  Her very good friend wrote her final blog.  Finished.

I cried so much last night reading her final blog, obituary and twitter posts with pictures.  I have never met Mary, I never commented to any of her posts.  I watched and listened and felt and hoped and prayed for someone who I never spoke a single word to, but I was a part of her life because she had a message to deliver.  It’s easy to listen intently to the legitimacy of a person, a mother facing death head on.  Her messages were insightful and penetrating and heartfelt.

We learn about life’s adventures by living them.  We listen keenly to words and dissect them to either work for or against us.  We make up our minds to sleep the day away or make each day count.  Nothing is forever.  Nothing.

Rest in Peace, Mary.

 

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