Today one of my dearest friends said her final good-bye to her parents. Once married and long divorced, I knew them mostly through her eyes, stories and flitting glimpses.
They died within days of one another, oblivious of each other until the day the mother, Mary, died. Upon hearing the news, the often petulant and irritable father calmly stated ‘I love you Mary’ providing much needed information to his long grown children. Neither ever remarried - nor revisited any thought on reliving together. At least none that was spoken.
But today I got a mosaic type view of their lives told in the words and stories of my friend, her brother, (also my friend) and best of all, the ‘grands.’ They spoke of a man I hardly recognized, proving that being a grandparent does allow for edits and ‘delete’ if is done ‘right.’ He surely loved them and they knew it.
I know my friend often wondered about such things.
Death is a mysterious process that often fills in the blanks of life as only dying can do. It provides one last chance to set the record straight.
His family did such a thing for him today.
Their voices combined to paint a picture that said ‘He fixed it’ this go round. And in doing that, my friend, got some ‘fixing’ too.
Even still, I don’t want to live a life where I wait until my deathbed to declare how I have felt all along.
No thank you, I will try to make that clear every day. I know I will fail on some days but hopefully, not MOST days.