january

For my family, January is an interesting month of anniversaries, an opportunity to call on memories from long ago. These days, I have a peace about this month. However, it took me a while to come to this because my mother, my father and my sister Mary all died in January...

This January 4th would have been Mary's 63rd birthday. She died on January 27, 1988, at the age of 41, of malignant melanoma that had metastasized in her brain and liver. (Original site was on her back in a mole.) She was diagnosed with it October 15, 1987 and 3 months later she died. For me, it was a terrible time of questioning God's goodness. She left behind 8 children, ages 6 to 18 and I couldn't believe a good God would allow such a thing to happen. In my arrogance, I was very angry with Him. I would never react that way today. All during the time of my grieving and my anger, my dear Lord was waiting for me to come to understand that death is part of life and, since I don't know everything the way He does, I came to accept that I had no idea how Mary's death would be ordered toward good in the end but that it would be--glorious good, for that matter! Mary told me not to be sad because she was going home. Our archbishop visited her and told our mother that she was a very faith-filled woman. Mom could tell he was very touched by their visit. That's how it was with Mary, no matter who visited her. She always gave her visitors far more than we gave her. She planned her entire funeral and it was, without doubt, the most beautiful funeral I've ever attended, her final gift to her family and friends. All her choirs sang, she chose beautiful readings and hymns. One thing she told me when she was planning it was that we would NOT be singing On Eagle's Wings because she was so tired of playing it at every funeral. That was 22 years ago and I'm STILL playing it at every funeral! (As I begin the introduction, I always think, "This one's for you, Mare!" I picture her laughing about it.) I was very blessed to know and love my sister Mary here on earth.

My dad died on January 26, 1996, at the age of 84. He'd suffered a massive stroke on October 14, 1995. We buried him on the anniversary of the date we buried Mary. I was glad he had his own date of death. It seemed important somehow that he die on a different date than the one Mary did. Something happened 4 days before he died. I was in my living room, sitting on the couch, studying for a class on psychopathology (I was in grad school at the time) and I asked Mary if Dad was dying. (I often talk to her.) And, I heard her say, not in her physical, earth voice, but more as a presence right next to me: "Yes, and I'll be here when he comes." Now, I wondered if I was having an auditory hallucination because of my studies, but, deep down, I knew that God had allowed this moment to bring us comfort and, indeed, when I told Mom about it a few minutes after Dad died, it helped bring her peace.

My mom died on January 3, 2002, at the age of 83. She'd suffered a massive stroke 3 years earlier, on October 16th. (Did you notice that October is a theme running through these, too?) She lived in a health care center for the last 3 years of her life. My two sisters visited her every single day except for every other weekend when my brother traveled to be with her on Saturday and I traveled there on Sunday. I often wondered what only children do in situations like this because all of us got worn out. I don't remember ever hearing anyone complain, though, because Mom was very, very dear to all of us and we all knew she would have done the same for any of us. All of us loved spending time with her, even though conversations were basically one-sided for she had lost her ability to speak and was paralyzed on half of her body. In her silence, she was a testament to courage and strength during that time.

I find it interesting that dates in families can sometimes coincide. While it seems coincidental, I don't believe it really is. And, these days, I find comfort in the fact that Mom, Dad and Mary all died in the same month. I believe death was only the beginning of something exquisitely beautiful for them. And, THAT is something to celebrate!