Life Is Right Now

I’ve got this plaque hanging up in my bedroom. It’s just one of those cheap, wooden ones with a saying, like you can find in pretty much any novelty store. I bought it because, to me, it’s one of those reminders that we need to look at every once in awhile so we don’t forget. Life is right now. Not yesterday, not last week, or last year, or tomorrow even. It’s right now. And right now, just a day after saying goodbye to my sister Christine, I and the rest of my family, can finally begin what I’m sure will be the very long process of healing.

I can’t speak for my mom or my siblings, nor the dozens of people who knew my sister and will have their own bit of healing to do. I can only speak for myself and my right now. Of course, for me the sadness is raw. I haven’t said this publicly until this moment, but I was the person who found my sister after she’d gone missing for a day. I’ve been reliving those moments in my head almost all day, everyday, since Monday night. I already realize that I’ll never be able to wash away the memories of the week, but I recognize that I’m probably going to need to seek some professional assistance to work through it, something I never thought I would have to do.

Of all the things that made me cry this week, it was the countless personal messages I’ve been receiving from friends and family, and even strangers who my sister touched in some way. Crying is therapeutic, and no matter how a person may feel about offering such words of condolence, I think it’s important to know that it doesn’t matter what was said or how it was said. Just the fact that someone found the strength to reach out means the world to the person who is grieving. To that, I offer my sincerest appreciation to everyone who reached out to us. Please know that however small you might think your gesture was, it meant the world to us.

Chrissy’s wake was surreal, as you can imagine. Being a part of her immediate family, I felt like a ping pong ball all day, with people waiting sometimes five deep, to offer their condolences.To all of you who came, especially on my behalf, and with whom I could only spare just a moment or two, I want you to know that through all the blur of yesterday, I remember that you came, and that you came not only out of respect for my sister, but out of love for me. My love for each and every one of you is returned tenfold.

I wish I could bottle up all if the humanity we experienced this week and keep it for all time. As happens, though, I know that life will continue and in some way that humanity will dissipate, sadly. We’ll maintain our political opinions and our personal issues with those in our lives, and that’s too bad. That’s really the tragedy of life. Well, not for me anymore. I know that life is too precious, too short, to be angry or to hold grudges. Right now, I have nothing but love for my family, for my friends, and for the compassionate side of my fellow human beings.

They say it often brings tragedy to bring people together, and I experienced that first-hand this week. In the days and weeks to come, I’m going to build on this, hold onto all that love, and carry it with me wherever I go. It is my hope that some who read my words will take them and run with them too. Reach out to those with whom you may be estranged and truly miss deep inside, give someone a hug, treat people with kindness. My heart is full right now, not only with sadness, but with love for you all. From the bottom of my heart, thank you!