During our almost 6 years of marriage, there have been many nights that Trenton and I stayed awake talking about how we'd deal with the passing of our parents. I think both of us assumed it would be my parents taking the first leap, since they have 10 years seniority over Trenton's mom and dad, and they have both endured a heart attack, diabetes, and other various illnesses. Whenever we got to talking about it, Trenton always promised me he'd be there for me- that I wouldn't have to deal with the loss by myself. So it came as a horrifying shock when we received the call last Wednesday that Trenton's dad had suffered a heart attack, at the age of 60, and died. I never figured I'd be doing the comforting first.
The lessons I've learned this week are invaluable and too numerous to share here. But I would like to share something I caught yesterday as I was thumbing through the channels on TV. I just happened to stop on Dr. Oz, and his guest was the famous Medium, John Edwards. Edwards was giving tips on communicating with those on the other side. Normally I would have rolled my eyes and moved on, but something he said struck a chord in me. "It's a lot easier to talk to them when they're gone if you communicate with them while they're here." Then Dr. Oz suggested that if there are any bridges needing to be built, we shouldn't waste any time building them. It's such a normal part of the human experience, to assume we'll always have that opportunity. This week I was given the stinging reminder of how temporal our time on the earth truly is. Shame on me for caring deeply about things that are so insignificant. I refuse to have my retrospective look at life be one of regret, anger, and wastefulness. And I certainly don't want to be left, or leave my loved ones wondering how I felt about them. I'm so thankful for the blessing of another day with air in my lungs, and the opportunity to be with the people I love most.
Because of you Rick, I have my husband- whom I cherish, and my two beautiful children. You will always live through them and their posterity. And you will forever be loved and missed by those who knew you. I hope you find your perfect fishing spot, and rest there peacefully.