By: Marlene Oxender
I recently spent an afternoon working in the kitchen – cooking and cleaning while listening to some online music.
The songs were new to me, but I was catching a few words that made me think the lyrics would be meaningful to someone who is grieving the passing of a loved one.
I wondered if angels speak to us through music and then realized I was being spoken to. A short while later, I walked past a window and saw a red cardinal bouncing in the yard. I went back to the songs, listened once again, and caught the message.
A friend of mine often reminds me that our loved ones never leave us; they may have passed away, but the soul never dies. Our loved ones are closer to us than ever before.
Although I hear what he’s saying, my heart does a little internal rebuttal. I feel the need to tell him that we simply want our loved ones back. We want them here in person. To hear their laughter once again. To see their smile. To listen to their voice.
And he agrees with me – we love them so much we want them back. We want old times to continue. After my brother Stevie passed away last year, I experienced the disbelief that many report is a normal response. We can’t believe they’re gone. We can’t believe it’s over.
Stevie had Down syndrome, and my family was used to taking care of him. It was difficult to accept the fact that he wasn’t going to spend any more weekends with me. I wasn’t going to see one of my brother’s cars in my driveway on Saturday mornings – bringing him to my house.
Stevie would no longer be walking into my home and making us laugh as he asked if we were surprised to see him.Someday, we’ll be the ones who have completed our time on earth.
We’ll be at the finish line. Our loved ones will talk about us and the fact that we passed away. But more importantly, they’ll talk about the fact that we lived. They’ll tell a few stories about us.
If I could speak with Stevie once again, he’d likely tell me he sees me crying at times. He’d tell me he knows a death in the family is a major big deal, and it’s okay to go ahead and cry. Cry because you can’t help it.
Stevie was often the reason someone was laughing. There were times we didn’t know what was so funny, but we laughed. We laughed because we couldn’t help it.
The photos and videos stored within our phones are treasures that become even more valuable as time goes by. I like to pull up Stevie’s Facebook page, replay the short videos, and be reminded of the many reasons he was so much fun to be around.
The song lyrics that spoke to me while I was working in the kitchen that afternoon were a reminder that life is a gift. That’s why we call it “the present.”
Stevie loved to open gifts, and he was good at finding joy in nearly every situation. If he could speak to me now, he’d tell me to hold on. To be still. And know the story isn’t over yet.
Just as a caterpillar transforms into something different, so does our soul. Logic told me Stevie had completed his work on earth, and it was time to let him soar. But that would mean my mind and my heart would need to come to some kind of agreement.
When we’ve lost a loved one, we’re going to cry a few tears. We may think it will take weeks before we quit crying. But we often find the weeks turn into months, and the months turn into years.
We wonder how long it will be before we can share our thoughts about them and not feel the need to find a tissue. Sometimes all we’re trying to do is answer a question or speak about how much we miss them, and the tears get in the way.
I have a video of Stevie calling me “Crazy Girl.” And perhaps that is what our departed loved ones think of us at times. We’re crazy if we don’t know they’re still with us.
We’re crazy if we don’t talk to them. We’re crazy if we don’t start living with intention. We’re crazy if we don’t bring joy back into our lives. We’re crazy if we don’t do it for them.
Perhaps the best thing we can do is learn to be still. To hold on. To accept the love they’re still sending. To know the story isn’t over yet.
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Marlene Oxender is a writer, speaker, and author. She writes about growing up in the small town of Edgerton, her ten siblings, the memorabilia in her parents’ estate, and her late younger brother, Stevie Kimpel, who was born with Down syndrome. Her three published books, Picket Fences, Stevie, and “Grandma, You Already Am Old!” are available on Amazon. Marlene can be reached at mpoxender@gmail.com