“Our lives are made by the deaths of others.” Leonardo Da Vinci
This may very well be the shortest, but hardest post to write. Yet it may carry the most meaning, at least for the three of us.
I write as I sit alone in our beautiful, spacious, Victorian-style room in Cripple Creek, Colorado on Saturday, March 3rd. Gail and Suzanne are off doing their things, and I am doing mine. We love our togetherness, but alone-ness is great, too. We are relishing this time away in this beautiful mountain town.
I opened my laptop, and turned on the TV, searching for inspiration just to begin this post. How do I find words on this day, this sacred day ten years ago when we last saw our parents alive at our grandmother’s funeral? This day before March 4th, the day our parents died? What words of adequate weight can I possibly conjure? Common sense told me to leave the TV off to let the thoughts gel into words, but I turned on a rerun of Criminal Minds, just for some noise.
As it began at 4:00, the first words spoken for this episode were “Our lives are made by the deaths of others.” Sometimes the perfect words just show up at the perfect time from sources we would never expect.
Gail, Suzanne and I are having more fun and adventure than mere words can possibly confer, but my attempt to do just that will wait until next week. Of course, it won’t be a tell-all; it never is. A tell-some is what you will get, as usual. There are some things we don’t share with everyone, and this, I feel, is the way it should be among sisters like us.
Sisters like us who loved our parents beyond words, and lost them beyond words too. But this loss has made us who we are; it is the crucible that forged us into the women of strength we are. When their deaths brought us to our knees in complete and searing heartbreak, it also planted within us seeds that would grow from barren devastation into amazingly strong, resilient and joyful living beings.
And so here we are. Here we are every day, for the last 3,653 days. And every day builds on the next. Every day we move forward, and every day we do what we can to find joy, to make even more joy for ourselves, for those in our lives, and hopefully on a grand scale, it will be shared and spread far and wide. Every day we try to live our lives in honor of our parents, trying to further their legacies of love and peace. Every day we March Forth.
Our lives are not perfect or painless, but they are full, rich and beautiful, just like theirs were. Our lives—as we know them today—were made by the deaths of our parents.
Thank you for joining us on our weekly adventure. Next week, I promise, I will share enough to give you a really good idea of just how much fun we are having this week—but I won’t tell all.
This week, I ask this of you: whatever your hardships or heartbreaks are today, please know there are brighter days ahead. With faith, love and a little elbow grease, things are going to be okay. They might even be more than okay. If you forge through the pain, do the work and have faith, you, too, will find yourself marching forth into a place of greater strength, hope and happiness. We are living proof.
“If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, so my child can have peace.” Thomas Payne
The Criminal Minds episode ended as I finished this post, and it closed with this quote. Sometimes the words really do come at the perfect times.
MARCH FORTH, my friends.