I Remember.............

She was a young girl I met only once. He was a teenage boy on whom I had a mad crush. But they were 2 of 5 people I never forgot. The entire family were unforgettable to a 17-year-old Rachel. I lost contact with the “mad crush” but never forgot him. Through that wonderful invention that is the Internet, I re connected with him 34 years later. It was wonderful. A few emails and even a Christmas card brought memories of my crush and this wonderful boy into my present and he seems not to have changed a lot. He’s grown and older now, as are we all, but still a wonderful person. Wonderful enough to go to Afghanistan because he believed it was the right thing to do. Reconnecting, even on that small a scale was marvellous. November 10, the eve of Remembrance Day, for the first time in 35 years, I spoke to this man on the telephone. It was amazing for me. For a multitude of reasons. And sad, unutterably sad. The young, vibrant girl I remember as his sister, had, unbeknownst to me, passed away. Another victim of cancer, the merciless killer of so many. Including my own mother. This news hit me in a way that was totally unexpected. And it brought a flood of memories to the surface. I remembered his sister albeit as a young teenager but still as one who died too young. I remembered my brother, who committed suicide at age 54. I remembered my father who died at age 67. And my mother, who at 70 years, succumbed to the same dreaded cancer that had taken my friend’s sister. All people who were taken from us far too soon. The way they died, and even the age at which they died was suddenly not important at all. What mattered was only that they were gone. Gone far too soon one and all. I thought of all of my friends who have lost loved ones and realized that at 51, I no longer know anyone who has NOT lost a loved one.

The conversation I had with my friend of over 35 years was truly wonderful. It felt as though I had finally re connected on a much more tangible basis and that was great. I hung up the phone and wept just the same. I wept for my friend and the pain he’d had to endure when he lost his sister. I wept for myself and the pain I’ve endured with the loss of my parents and brother. I wept for those of my friends who I know have lost loved ones. I wept for my brother’s family who lost their husband and father far too soon. And I wept for all those still in war torn countries who may or may not make it home to their loved ones. I wept unashamedly.

Too often tears are regarded as a sign of weakness. My tears were most definitely not a sign of weakness in any way. They were my expression of love for myself, a young girl I once met briefly but was impressed by, a friend who is a remarkable human being and love for so very many close friends who have lost loved ones. I cry because I love. This can’t be a bad thing. Or a sign of weakness. This is love, Rachel style.

November 11 is traditionally a day for remembering those who have died serving our country. While I am most certainly grateful to those men and women, it still somehow seemed appropriate to also find a small way of honouring those closest to me. Those I love. So should you find this inappropriate in this special day of Remembrance, I beg your indulgence. This is my way of showing my love to all who have gone before. It is also a salute to the people I love who have had to endure the pain of suffering through those deaths. And perhaps, equally as important, it is a profound outpouring of gratitude for the safe return of someone very special to me, who got into and out of Afghanistan, alive.

I grieve with all of you. I love all of you.

KR,DM,DM,DG,SD.......this one's for you especially.
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