By Steve Cichon
steve@buffalostories.com
@stevebuffalo
My mother-in-law died very suddenly and unexpectedly three years ago today. I’ve never lost anyone suddenly like that, and it makes the pain so much more intense and agonizing. The worst part is the deep shock that everyone feels dampens the celebration of life that usually takes place during a wake and a funeral, because we’re all still lost and trying to rectify what happened.
Pam used to say about people all the time, “She’s had a hard life.” She used to see that in people, because that’s the experience she had. Life just wasn’t easy for her. But when she experienced joy, it was about as full-blown, crazed, smiling, happy, joyful, laugh-til-it-hurts kind of joy.
That’s what I’m trying for today. It’s still hard to not bring some measure of sadness to thinking about her– just because of the way she left us… But she deserves to be remembered with the same kind of unbridled joy she had when she played one of her practical jokes or figured out ways to sneak in dances with Elvis.
Honestly, I think she’s the only one who ever understood her practical jokes– but she’d laugh so hard she couldn’t breathe, and whether we were laughing with her, or at her, or both, we’d all be having one of those great family moments that live on forever with just three words… like “two eye patches.”
When she was silly and fun, there was no one more fun or more silly. Of course there’s some sadness today, but I’m making sure it’s more smiles than tears.
