Hello from my little corner in Panera Bread,
As has been my practice for a few years now, and without my trusty accomplice, I am back in Panera sitting where there is an outlet and I can do work. It is Monday, but it seems like I have done three days work already, and it is barely after 1:00 p.m.. I added a set of office hours this morning, and to my students’ credit, I had people in front of me for three hours straight. I had a small issue with the Beetle this morning, so my friend and colleague both picked me up and delivered me back to the shop. The shop, where I have gone for about three or four years, do outstanding and fair work. There was a reoccurring issue with a oil pan drain plug and they fixed it for free. Not what I expected, but appreciated.
When I was small, much to my mother’s chagrin, and perhaps with some worry for her, I grabbed our local paper every day when it was delivered. That was not her concern, but rather it was that the first thing I would read was the obituaries. For her, this was quite morbid, but at that point in my life, I did not want to be an astronaut, a policeman, or a firefighter, I wanted to be a mortician. So reading the obituaries and finding out the story of people was interesting to me. Each of these people had a story, and they had people who loved them (or that is how my 8-year-old mind understood the world). Over the years, I got to know our neighborhood funeral director well because if you were in Riverside, the Berkemeier Funeral Home was where you had your loved ones taken when they passed. Kenny, as we called him, was one of the most talented and compassionate people you could ever hope to care for your family at such a time. He managed the burial of three of the four of my immediate family. He also cared for grandparents, aunts, and uncles. When he buried my father, I told him if he was still conducting business when my time came, he could put me in an over-tempered Gladbag and set me on the curb. He smiled at me with a wry smile, and said, “Pastors are always the worst.” He was also known for his ability to assist other directors when they had a particularly difficult preparation to provide as much comfort to a family as possible. And one might say I ended up closer to that profession than I expected when I became a parish pastor.
Over the past two weeks, I have learned and read about two individuals, each of them of significant importance to me at a particular time in my life. The first I met in college, and as an older somewhat non-traditional student, he was a bit younger, but I was never sure how much. Paul Madsen was the head resident in Holling Hall when I was a freshman at Dana. He was personable, fair, committed to his work, and very capable. He was from the Madsen family who had long ties to Dana, as well as from Luck, WI, where the Dana pipeline was long and strong. He had an infectious laugh, and he was willing to take time for most anyone. He married his life-long love, and they were really a made-for-each-other couple. Lisa, his wife, also had a long Dana history. We had corresponded, not regularly, but he wrote me a very kind message last summer after not seeing my message to him for some time. His passing seems beyond unfair to his sons as they lost a mother and a sister in a very short spans of time, not long before. Everything I read about Paul and his willingness to share his pain in a manner that offered hope to others is exactly what you would expect of him. He was younger than I am, but such an unexpected passing is one of those slap-along-side-the-head moments, reminding me that there are no promises of anything. This is especially true when it comes to longevity. It there a reasonable time, a length of time, when if someone passes it seems fair? Certainly whether someone passes after a long illness or it is unexpected, we are never prepared to let go. Furthermore, many will say, “Just let me go to sleep and not wake up.” And yet such a death is stunningly difficult for those left behind. It is almost 15 years ago when I awoke to a very early morning phone call. My hello was met with “Mom’s dead. We found her dead on the couch.” and then my niece hung up the phone. I had no time to even respond, and I was trying to make sense of what I had just heard. I called back to make sure I had understood correctly, and indeed, I heard accurately. Kris, my younger sister, had died of a heart attack at 51. In the time since, and after an autopsy report, her early passing is no longer surprising. And yet, there are those moments when I wonder what she would be like as a grandmother, as a person in her 60s.
The second person, a person who recently passed, was a parishioner from Lehighton, where I was the pastor half my life ago. Her name is Louisa, and she was an incredibly talented, intelligent, and beautiful lady. Her late husband was my family doctor, and they once hosted my wife, my father, and me in their wonderful home for Thanksgiving dinner. That was a special time for my father in particular, as what I know now is he was in the beginning of his fight with Alzheimer’s Disease. Louisa was a larger-than-life person, one who never saw herself that way. She was always open and honest with me, and she taught me a great deal about life and actually being a parent. In spite of the fact I did not have children, I remember a situation with Jess (John), her son, and the degree she went to support and help him. That was actually the first time I ever met her other than to say good morning on her way out of church. She was distraught at the moment, and somehow I was able to calm her and help her and John (the husband) manage the situation. I did some work including some travel as I remember. That event cemented our mutual respect for the other.
She was an incredible tennis player, and she was gracious in her willingness to help someone (me) who was not nearly as adept at the game as she was. At other times, she would invite me to sit in their amazing home where we would chat about both things as philosophical as systematic theology or something as mundane as what was happening in town, and as the pastor of the third largest Lutheran Church, there was always something going on. Ice tea was always available. I remember riding with her to East Stroudsburg where I had a bi-weekly appointment, and she set up her appointment so we had corresponding times back-to-back. There was a graciousness in that because she would drive, and I saved both money and wear-n-tear on my car. A beginning pastor did not make a lot of money, and even though Susan had a job in Allentown, there were expenses. And she had a little BMW, which I thought was amazing; it was the first time I was ever in this German wonder of automobile excellence. I actually thought of her more than once when I had my little 328i since I was here in Bloomsburg. We would listen to music, and we had similar tastes. I still remember the first time we heard the duet of Linda Ronstadt and Aaron Neville. It was probably late 1989 because my mother had passed that summer, and I was doing counseling to manage that loss and struggles I had with that relationship. The music video was quite scandalous at the time because it considered the possibility of a biracial relationship. I remember she and I talking about that struggle for people. Louisa was ahead of her time, and I believe she saw the world differently. Her background as a medical professional was helpful because I was in some of the most difficult times of my battle with Crohn’s Disease, and her husband, my doctor, did some remarkable work in helping me handle a disease that was controlling my life at the time. Then there was the graciousness of the Steele family for Susan and me. They took us to dinner, invited us for dinners and holidays. Both of their children, John and Jennifer were talented and amazing in their own ways.
It is hard to imagine either of them as having passed from this world. I reached out to Louisa when I returned 15 years ago, but time never allowed for a reconnection. As she has now passed, there is a sadness in that reality, but I also know that times and people change. The passage of time sneaks up on us. It is that constant reality that we are stuck in the middle of, seldom aware of the evolution that occurs all around us. Over the weekend, I drove past the farm (and the initial picture is of the barn) as I was in Jim Thorpe and drove back to Bloom by the way of 443 and 81. The house and the barn themselves looked to be in mourning also. I remember when they had renovated the house inside creating such a beautiful space, but there was the part of the house that was original with a fireplace. It was like stepping back in time. Again, I smile as I recollect how much my father enjoyed himself. I am still overjoyed knowing how gracious a host Louisa was, taking great care to make sure Harry was happy. I am forever grateful. And ironically, yet later during my time in Lehighton, Jennifer would have her cocker spaniel and my cocker spaniel get together to create puppies. We were given one of the puppies and another one was purchased by another parishioner, whose daughter was in the youth group. I would also note that we made sure there was no inner-breeding possible.
It is amazing when someone passes what comes to the surface or in our recollections. It is what makes us unique in creation, at least as far as we know. Memory provides an opportunity to reminisce, to ponder the importance of the other, even if that period of our life has changed. My journey to become a student at Dana was unexpected, occurring through a visit on a Lutheran Youth Encounter team, but it changed my life. The meeting of incredible classmates like Paul Madsen and so many others changed the trajectory of my life, and I believe I can see the thread from there to here. Never did I believe my first assigned synod from Luther Northwestern would be the Northeastern Pennsylvania Synod of the ELCA, but that is where I ended up. That time in Lehighton from 1988-1992 was life changing, and while I never saw myself becoming a professor, Guy Grube, my senior pastor (at least as it was told to me later), told our incredible church office manager that I would someday become a professor. I guess he was more accurately prophetic than I would have ever imagined. Those four years were a difficult and profoundly important time in my life. And they parallel my first years in the academy more than I would hope. There is an irony that I am back within 60 miles of where I was half my life ago. There is growth in my seeing that time very differently than I did when I was the pastor of Trinity.
Many times I have said I wish I knew then what I know now. I certainly do not want to go back and relive that time, either at Dana or Lehighton, but I am grateful for those lessons and that part of my journey. I am blessed by Paul and Louisa, and their passing offers an opportunity to focus on the two profoundly special people. They were in my life at those different times, but they have some similar effects on me. We cross paths with earthly angels, those who come in different forms, different backgrounds, different paths that intersect our own. To Paul’s sons, Dane and Jake, you do not know me, but I was blessed to know both of your parents at Dana. They were an incredible couple who taught us who knew them how to love unapologetically. I wish you peace in this time. To Jess and Jennifer, your parents were life-changing to me. Your father provided incredible medical care when I was in the deepest throes of Crohn’s helping me set up surgery in Arizona. Your mother blessed me with her friendship. her wit, her talent, and her elegance. I am a better person because of all of them. Their graciousness, kindness, and care made my time in Lehighton more fulfilling and perhaps not surprisingly to you both, they ministered to me as much as I did to them as their pastor. Sometimes I wish I had the words, the music or precisely the correct thing I might do. As I sat here writing today, I was blessed to have Roxana and Brittany stop. Again, some of the best blessings that have occurred here in Bloomsburg. As I wrote, I heard a cover of one of my favorite songs, “Scarborough Fair,” the song by Simon and Garfunkel. When I first heard it I was probably the age of the young people doing this cover. The main vocalist is 11 (I think) as she sings. Incredible. I love the lyrics, the music, and the connection it has to my heritage. As people pass, they leave a heritage, their story, a story that intersects and changes other lives. Again, thank you Louisa and Paul.
Thank you everyone for reading.
Dr. (Pastor) Martin
thewritingprofessor55 
Dr. Martin,
This blog really allowed me to think about the people who left an impact on my life. It is really interesting how people can change your life in so many ways, depending on the time of your life you are experiencing. This post particularly made me think about the people who stood by me during some of the worst parts of my life, and the best parts of my life, and how they are all different or similar. It is really interesting how so many situations can be connected. Life is full of butterfly effects, and it is always fascinating how one small decision can make such a huge impact on ones life. I appreciate you sharing more insight about your life, and allowing readers to have the opportunity to think about the people and situations that make them, them.
Dr. Martin,
This blog is so heartfelt, it made me sit back and think for a while. I think the way you explained people who have passed away leaving an important impact in our lives was very kind and respectful. My family, when faced with grieving for people we have lost, opt to celebrate the person’s life. I think the way you wrote this blog did a wonderful job of celebrating those lives and showing us how wonderful and kind they both were. I feel that we do not realize how many people we may affect in our lifetime and should be conscious about how we treat people and behave. There are many people who I have only spoken to a few times but they are part of core memories and I miss those who have passed away or I am no longer in touch with.
Dr. Martin,
I found this blog entry to be a recollection of impactful people who have since passed. I myself have had impactful people pass away. I have seen the similar aftermath of someone picking up the phone to be told someone has passed. I still remember the scream of my mother when she was told her father had passed away. Hearing her sobs were heartbreaking to hear. I often, like you, wonder what it would be like if the person was still living. If they were able to grow with you and see how you change as a person. I have also been on the receiving end of someone saying that someone I loved most dear has passed. That death has impacted every part of my life. It changed everything. Grief has been a part of my life for over a decade. The waves of it move up and down. Reading your blog and writing this response has invoked emotions I have not experienced in a long while. This reminded me of a Tumblr post I saw a while back, “How do you process grief?” “By running from it until it finds me in the middle of a sunny street on a beautiful day.” I have not been in touch with grief for many months but by writing this response, grief found me on a sunny day sitting in a lounge trying to do homework. My relationship with grief is complex but it is good to be reminded that grief can come knocking at unexpected moments and all you can do is move with the punches.
Amelia Lamont
Dr. Martin
I found this blog entry to be a recollection of impactful people who have since passed. I myself have had impactful people pass away. I have seen the similar aftermath of someone picking up the phone to be told someone has passed. I still remember the scream of my mother when she was told her father had passed away. Hearing her sobs were heartbreaking to hear. I often, like you, wonder what it would be like if the person was still living. If they were able to grow with you and see how you change as a person. I have also been on the receiving end of someone saying that someone I loved most dear has passed. That death has impacted every part of my life. It changed everything. Grief has been a part of my life for over a decade. The waves of it move up and down. Reading your blog and writing this response has invoked emotions I have not experienced in a long while. This reminded me of a Tumblr post I saw a while back, “How do you process grief?” “By running from it until it finds me in the middle of a sunny street on a beautiful day.” I have not been in touch with grief for many months but by writing this response, grief found me on a sunny day sitting in a lounge trying to do homework. My relationship with grief is complex but it is good to be reminded that grief can come knocking at unexpected moments and all you can do is move with the punches.
Amelia Lamont
Dr. Martin,
When I read your first paragraph about how violence and hostility have become so normalized and accepted by society today, I was reminded of January 6th, 2021. Specifically your use of the word “insurrection” got me thinking of how the capital was raided. I googled insurrection and mostly pictures of January 6th showed up. I still can’t believe that I lived through that historical event and that it was even was possible, especially in a post 9/11 America. It still shocks me to this day that January 6th happened, so I’m glad I haven’t normalized that event for me. When whole groups of people who enable each others’ dangerous ideas and are mislead, it’s scary what they can do together.
Last year for a group project, I had to research what makes a serial killer, I also found research on certain genes making people more prone to behavioral issues and negative emotions giving people dopamine. Though I’m not saying all people with this gene are serial killers, but in my research I found that usually the combination of a traumatic childhood and that gene might lead someone to become a serial killer. I forgot what gene was in my research last year, but MAOA gene does sound familiar. With the case of being cynical and mistrusting, I believe that the world we currently live in could make someone a cynical or mistrusting person. And those cynical and mistrusting people might take extreme actions that make the world even more grim. So it is a very vicious cycle that just keeps repeating itself.
I think young kids only learn to be selfish from what they observe and learn from their parents, teachers, and sometime other children. If they learn from their parents and teachers, that’s what their parents’ and teachers’ parents taught them. So there yet again is another example of a harmful cycle. Children can also learn from current events, media, and most likely bullies, to be selfish. So, children, to prevent themselves from getting hurt, they probably will start to become less trusting of others, even their own parents.
I personally don’t know what needs to change first for our world to become a better place, but the first step might be for individuals to try to change themselves first. Parents, if they didn’t like how their parents raised them, must raise their children how they would’ve wanted to be raised. People who aren’t parents should be kinder and show by example to younger generations how adults should act. But on the grander scale, like international issues and things our governments do that are out of our control, we shouldn’t resort to violence or insurrections. We should put our money and time in things that support causes we believe in, that show our governments what change we want. For example, participating in strikes, boycotts, or protests.
Grace D’Agostino
Dr. Martin,
I could not take my eyes away from this blog. I connected to this and it truly helped me see how grateful I am for my life. In the beginning of your blog, you spoke of your car having a problem with the oil pan drain plug and how they fixed it for free. I don’t know why but that make me smile because it shows that there are people still out there no matter what kind of a day you are having. It was obvious you were having a rough day due to car problems and things like that are so appreciated.
Secondly, I always saw death as a big, scary thing because you lose loved ones but your blog opened my eyes to see it differently. The memories those people leave with us are forever. The way you worded it was beautiful.
Dr. Martin,
I found this blog entry to be a recollection of impactful people who have since passed. I myself have had impactful people pass away. I have seen the similar aftermath of someone picking up the phone to be told someone has passed. I still remember the scream of my mother when she was told her father had passed away. Hearing her sobs were heartbreaking to hear. I often, like you, wonder what it would be like if the person was still living. If they were able to grow with you and see how you change as a person. I have also been on the receiving end of someone saying that someone I loved most dear has passed. That death has impacted every part of my life. It changed everything. Grief has been a part of my life for over a decade. The waves of it move up and down. Reading your blog and writing this response has invoked emotions I have not experienced in a long while. This reminded me of a Tumblr post I saw a while back, “How do you process grief?” “By running from it until it finds me in the middle of a sunny street on a beautiful day.” I have not been in touch with grief for many months but by writing this response, grief found me on a sunny day sitting in a lounge trying to do homework. My relationship with grief is complex but it is good to be reminded that grief can come knocking at unexpected moments and all you can do is move with the punches.
Amelia Lamont
Dr. Martin,
Wow, that is all I could truly say after reading this blog post. I am not one to cry or get teared up at writing but this had a big impact on me and how I view the world. I have always had a positive outlook on the world and that has slightly changed over the years just because I have been exposed to more, including death and that is a sad but true fact. Your blog made me think about my dad, now every chance I can bring up my dad I do it just because he is the best person I know, but anyway, he has always told me that for his future he wants a celebration of life. This means he doesn’t want anything sad at his father he wants everyone to be sharing memories and laughing together. This will show you all the impact you made on this world just like Dana and Lehighton did. You showed how much of an impact they had on your life even if your friendship wasn’t a lifelong thing. Life is a beautiful thing and we take it for granted each and every day without even realizing it, we need to pay more attention to the world around us and our lives. I think this blog post made me realize that so thank you for sharing and being vulnerable with all your readers.
All the best,
Taylor Postiglione
Dr. Martin,
I write to you now from the floor of the Arts and Admin atrium, almost at a loss for words. Your words led me through a journey of thoughts and emotions I believe I have long closed myself off from. Your reflection on the impact of those departed from us pulled at my heart-strings in a way where I - and I imagine others who read this as well – now feel the need to embark upon a journey of reflection, myself.
For the first half of my life, I was blissfully ignorant to the experience of losing someone I loved. At 13, I experienced my first loss of a loved one when my grandmother lost her battle to cancer just 5 days after my birthday. The experience was odd because in all honesty, my grandmother was dead many months prior. During her fight against cancer, she lost the ability to do everything she loved – everything that made her HER. Watching her slowly lose herself was hard, but made her eventual passing almost a relief.
The next time I experienced loss, however, was much different. My sophomore year, here at Bloomsburg University, I decided to become an Resident Assistant. I moved back early in order to attend training and assist with move-in. The day before students were to supposed to return campus, I received one of the worst calls of my life. My best friend of over a decade was missing and presumed dead. My world stopped. It was at that moment that I truly understood the weight of losing someone you loved – someone who impacted your life so heavily. So many thoughts and feelings arose all at once and it was paralyzing. First, I had so many questions. When did he disappear? Why is he presumed dead? What’s the plan to locate him? Are we sure? I couldn’t wrap my head around how this human that I had known from childhood – truly as long as I could remember – was thought to no longer be in this world. It didn’t make sense. Yet, it did.
As those questions circled my mind and the tears began to drown me, I realized that there was no point in asking those questions. Did I wanted to believe that he was out there? Yes. Would I have loved the closure of knowing how, where, when, and why he had left? Yes. However, in that moment, it became clear to me that he was gone and I would never truly know what happened. We found him – a year later. He had passed long prior and in my heart I know that he had already left this world by the time I learned he was missing.
I often reminisce on the shared moments of our lives – the memories we made. However, I have many regrets. I feel like I wasted so much time with him, that I can never get back. There’s a song by the artist, FINNEAS called “Only a Lifetime” that I always feel incapsulates the feelings I have on this. In the song, he sings, “How you know if it was worth it in the end? Did every second really count? Or were there some you shouldn’t spend, on anything but anyone you love?”
Thank you your words and the space to relive these feelings and moments.
Dr. Martin,
Losing family members or people you care about can be very difficult. The last words I said to my grandmother before she was were “I love you, I’m sorry.” For a little context, there was an emergency at the theater I was at with my mother, and my dad called me from my grandmother’s hospital bed to talk to her. I was scared and did not know what was going on, but I was also battling the feelings of anger for not being with my dad as my grandmother was dying and grief because she was dying. I was upset and confused, crying on the phone when I said those words. I think they thought I was crying about her, which in part I was, so my grandfather took the phone back and spoke with me for a while instead. She passed peacefully that night and I’ve never really been able to forgive myself for what I said. It’s hard to think of memories with my grandmother without remembering that night no matter how many fun ones we had, and there are many. I feel this is because we as humans remember the bad and ugly more than the lovely and happy. I prefer the memories of her being at my side when my sister was born, teaching me to crochet and cook her homemade tomato soup, going on family vacations on Carnival cruises, and talking me to Disney World whenever we visited, but somewhere, deep in my twisted mind, the words “I love you, I’m sorry” will always haunt me. She truly was an amazing woman; I look forward to seeing her again wherever we end up after death.
Your blog post allowed me to think about the long-lasting impact our passed loved ones leave on us. Thank you for giving me this space to express how our loved ones never really leave us after everything we have been through.
Dr. Martin
I am writing from a hotel room in Rochester, New York. This blog definitely gives me all the feels. Often times I find myself reflecting on the past and remembering my loved ones who are now not on this earth. I never thought I would end up “grandparentless” at the age of 24. I remember getting the phone calls and life had suddenly changed. I am now 37 and life has continued. Suddenly, I am left with memories.
I have three boys. I can remember when I was at my baby shower for my first son. Someone had gifted me a 4T outfit. I distinctly remember thinking to myself. “4T? It will be forever before this fits him.” I blinked and he is now 16 years old and wears men’s clothes. Your blog makes me think of the circle of life. Hopefully one day I will have grandkids that I can leave a lasting impression on before I enter into the afterlife.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I truly enjoyed reading your blog.
-Danielle Crotsley
Dr. Martin,
Thank you for taking the time to sit down and share these thoughts. I feel as if after everyone loses someone they should be able to sit down and share their memories of that person. I feel as if sharing opens up a new layer of healing when you are greiving. To say that writting this response was easy would be a lie. It was hard to read this and not remember people I have lost that I loved, especially with one having passed away during this time a few years ago. I find it intresting how grief can hit you so many years later like it just happened yesterday, but we can go by many months with out thinking about the person.
I thought it was intresting that you know people that were related to those who past, but they don’t know you. I think it shows that people can leave an impact on you or on others with out them knowing or with out their children knowing. I think it is important to share those stories with them after they pass so they know a different side of that person as well.
-Morgan McKinnis
Dr. Martin,
How do you always manage to find the best music video and song that gives chills? I had a cassette tape with this song and played it repeatedly while reading Zenon Kosidowski; I remember it like today! I was about the same age as you when you listened to this.
The best part about memories is that nobody can take them from us; we keep them and protect them in our hearts.
I hope you are doing well!
Keep writing!
Helena
Dr. Martin,
This blog really gives people the chance to think about others and situations that taught them to be who they are. I found myself reminiscing about loved ones I have lost. Wether it was lose of life or friends just splitting paths, there are many memories of the important people who are and were in my life that I will always cherish the moments we had together. This pulled at my heartstrings a little bit when I started thinking about my family and friends that I have lost and reading this blog was a good reminded that they will always be in your heart.
Cassidy Makray
Dr Martin,
I am sorry to hear about your car, car troubles are never something fun to deal with, but it was really nice of them to resolve the issue for free! I believe that the purpose of this blog post is to give time to mourn the loss of others. Being able to remember people when they were in the prime of their life and then celebrating them for who they were/are is something beautiful and should be done more often. Hearing of the important people in your life and the impacts that they made on not only you but also to the people around you, it is inspiring. Thank you for sharing memories of these people. Death is something that is really difficult to deal with and I feel we do not talk about it. It can be quite traumatic, in some cases, and yet we somehow manage to move on with our lives. The audience of this piece could be people who also know of the ones you talked about or even just to open up a conversation of the dying process and people who may be going through it. I feel that everything that we go through in life can be made into a learning experience and a lesson. We are able to gain so many things from the people around us and in some cases, I don’t think that we realize it until much later in life or even when it is too late. Being able to thank the ones who are no longer here is a difficult thing and a part of the grieving process. Grieving is weird but it is something that is inevitable in life. We are so lucky to be a part of this world and get to meet people and learn from each other. Thank you for the work that you did as a parish pastor, I can’t imagine that was easy but people are eternally grateful for what you have done to help when dealing with loss. Thank you for sharing!
Lauren Waits
Dr. Martin,
I find it interesting how at a young age, you were fascinated by death. I have always loved true crime podcasts and documentaries and it wasn’t until I was older that I realized why. When you watch/listen to these sorts of things, it is interesting to put yourself in the mindset of these killers and these victims. These aren’t just made up stories, they’re real people’s lives. Unless something like this happened to someone close to us, it is unimaginable to think that these are real people and real lives affected. For the last few years, I have been listening to a podcast called “Obitchuary”. The two hosts (who are best friends so it gives off a fun energy), sit down and deep dive into different aspects about death. It can range anywhere from different bizarre deaths, different funeral traditions, and what happens to the body when someone dies. It allows for a comfortable talk about something that is natural.
Good Afternoon Dr. Martin,
I related to your sentiment about seeing the local funeral director often. When I was 12-14, all four of my grandparents passed away during that time, and living in such a small town, there was only one funeral home and funeral director. I wasn’t able to process it then, but having reflected on it more, and processed it more, when I was around the age of 17 and 18, I became very interested and learning about death. As I entered my twenties and worked as a nurse during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, I witnessed so much death, leaving me with a complicated ideology and relationship with death. I greatly appreciated this post.
Dr. Martin,
Loss is never easy whether is being someone you were close to, strained relationship, or an individual yet met for only a moment. People truly impact us more than we realize. Even though we lose people in our lives, we never get used to the loss. At least I don’t seem to strong at managing it. I feel emotions too deeply and it affects me for sometime. Even if it is saying goodbye to someone who is going away for a long time. I don’t do well with change I suppose.
A big topic that hit me was about Alzheimer’s disease. It hits home for me due to the fact many family members on my father’s maternal and paternal side have had it and perished from it. It can be fast or slow in progression, and it is stressful to those caring for the one who is mentally fading everyday. I watched my grandfather with it and his sister. My pap did not died from it in the end. His kind heart finally got tired and he slowly faded away in those couple days. His sister did though, and she had it for years. Did not make it any easier if that is what you are thinking. She still stayed kind as angel like she always was. She in time forgot who I was, but when I visited her she always said how familiar I seemed and it was because of my black hair. That always made me smile inside and I just continue to talk to her and focus on the small things in those moments. Like how her hands looked and how hard they worked all her life. They were smaller but looked exactly like my grand father’s. He was gone quite some time at this point. So in a sense it was warming and gave me a bit a joy being with her because it was like being with him too.
When she finally passed. I was thankful she was at peace and in a better place. She deserved the best treatment in heaven. She was truly a warm and kind woman. It was calming in that fact, but it still hurt because I wouldn’t hear her voice or her unique laugh. I would no longer here how much she loved my pap and tell me stories of when they were younger. Now all I have is memories. I only have memories of her hands on the table moving as she talked. I fear the disease could take them from me, or time could file them too far back for me to reach them. Someone dying I always fear not being able to remember the small things about them. I am afraid I will forget them. In some ways I have. It breaks my hear and I feel I am letting them down for it. I can’t pass down to the next generation.
It is wonderful you have all those memories of them both. Does time worry you of losing fond memories? Does everyone feel the way I do? I hope that it does not take away my memory when I get older. I fear it and I may never get it. Which is insane in ways because I am causing myself anxiety over the thought. I worry for myself, but I worry more for my husband and children. Because it is a brutal experience that no one wants. To watch someone revert back in time and slowly forget you and themselves. Then eventually they cant take care of themselves. It is truly heartbreaking.
Well, I have to go. I hope you have a wonderful day. I love the picture you posted with this also. I love anything farming related.
-Kellie