Death should be inconvenient, she insisted.
I agreed.
She continued, When I die I want people's lives to be interrupted.
It was December 7, 1996. That morning I learned my dad had died suddenly, unexpectedly the night before. The first person I called was Marie. She was one of the few people who understood the complicated relationship I had with my father. Marie was soon at my door with two pounds of fresh ground Dunkin' Donuts coffee. She said it seemed appropriate. It was.
In addition to all the usual preparations and packing for such a trip, I had to organize four days' worth of lesson plans before my husband and I and our three children drove to Maryland. Marie made it clear that this was not supposed to be an easy time for me. A parent's death was serious business, regardless of the circumstances.
In terms of our own deaths, Marie and I talked about something that would happen decades later, after we had lived our lives. Our children were still young. We still had so much to accomplish. We wanted our lives to matter and for people to notice when we were gone.
Marie died November 6, 2005, long before her life was finished but not before it mattered. Marie's absence was noticed by all who knew her. She lived with gusto and hope. She would have campaigned for Obama and celebrated his victory, which makes this year's anniversary of her death even more poignant.
I still miss you, my friend.
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5 comments:
I am sorry for your loss. She sounds like she was a wonderful friend.
I nearly asked you if today was the day - it certainly explains a great deal. I miss her so much. So very, very, very much.
xoxo "Kris"
Death ends a life, not a relationship. Thank God for the special ones whose memory imprints us forever.
When my dad died 10 years ago, I struggled with how can something that is so universal, so inevitable, so routine, really, - be so wrenching nonetheless. Your friend Marie was right - it's just supposed to be hard.
I'm glad you could share a bit of Marie with us.
Sharon, it sounds as if your friend Marie was very wise. I agree with her -- death is supposed to be hard. I lost my dad when I was very pregnant with my third child. That was hard. I lost my mother in January. It's still hard, because my sibs and I are still dealing with memories -- and lots of packratted stuff still to be cleared out of her home.
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