Stepping out of the Shadows and back into the Sunshine

WARNING - Long post ahead. Many words will be used. Some of them, more than once. You have been warned.

Approximately six months ago, I wrote a post on MFP about my sister who was very ill, and the difficulties I had in her not allowing me to help as much as I wanted to. Many of you responded to that post with wonderful advice and words of support. After a long bout with bladder cancer, my sister Rita died on April 12, 2013. On Friday (4/26), we had a graveside interment in Queens, New York, for her and her husband who predeceased her. This afternoon, Sunday (4/28), we had a celebration of Rita's life at the same funeral home in North Olmsted, Ohio, where I had presided over her husband's funeral two years earlier.

This afternoon was glorious. I informed everyone present that Rita insisted that there not be 3 T's (ties, tears or tributes), that there be 2 L's (love and laughter) and that the event be rated R for Rita. No children under 17 unless accompanied by a parent or guardian. If you knew my sister, you'd understand that last comment to have resulted from her ribald and feisty sense of humor (yeah, big surprise that MY sister would be like that).

What followed was about an hour and a half of Rita's favorite jokes, funny stories about Rita, and our fond memories of things that she said and did. While I and my sister, Florence, started things off, by the time it was over, a dozen or more people spoke up from the audience, sharing their love of Rita and their laughter with and because of her. By the time we had finished, the funeral director on duty shook my hand and thanked me for what we had done. He said that he had been handling funeral services for a very long time, and never before today had he doubled over in laughter so many times. He said that it was obvious that Rita was a fun and special person who was deeply loved by many people. And she was. And I will miss her terribly.

However, this story does not end with sadness or tears. I am writing to let you know that over the past six months or so, I have felt like I've lived my life in the shadows. My thoughts of Rita's wellbeing, her medical care, her prognosis, our long, long telephone conversations and visits, and the thought of what would happen to her three beloved cats when she died, occupied many of my waking hours. Now that Rita has passed, she and her husband have been appropriately honored and buried, and the cats have been adopted by one of Rita's friends, I feel as though I am stepping out of the shadows and back into the sunshine of life. Instead of spending mental energy worrying about how she is doing, how long she'll live, and what will happen when she passed, I have optimistic hope for the future for the first time in a long time.

Many of you were there for me during the difficult days. I wanted each of you to know that I am looking forward to sharing the brighter days ahead with you, my MFP friends. My MFP family.

Love and hugs, Scott R. (usually in Houston, Tx., presently in North Olmsted, Ohio).