My mom is a widow now. There’s no easy way to tip toe into the idea of that; or a pretty way to tie it into a bow.
After a sudden onset of symptoms that landed him in the ICU for 10 days, my stepfather passed away on Sept. 13. Nine days shy of their 16th wedding anniversary.
I thought I was grown then. I thought I was an adult. But I was still just a girl, who had a bedroom in their house.
David was a man who never complained. I never heard him whine or wish he had something he didn’t have.
He loved his town, his church, his family, his home.
And he loved my mom. A lot.
We flew to Ohio on Friday; me and my husband and our toddler, who is luckily still two months away from being required to sit in his own seat. We connected through Chicago and landed in Columbus and loaded into a rental car for the hour drive south.
At his funeral, the pastor said how David would be remembered as a man with a servant’s heart and servant’s hands.
I would like to be remembered that way. Did I help people as much as I just think about it? Did I actually DO the things that I think would be nice to do for others?
A few things the last few days have taught me:
- Say thank you more than you think you need to.
- Call home.
- Say I love you
- Say thank you!
And the thing it has cemented for me even more: your family is not just the people who share your DNA. Your family is made up of the people who share your story, share your pain, your laughter, your heart.
I am so lucky to have been a part of David’s.