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Thank you Marilyn K., knowing you was a gift.
Nah, Marilyn and I weren’t “bosom buddies” and we didn’t spend very much time together. When we did see each other, the conversation was easy and the laughs were infectious. In this great big world, you were a friend by so many different degrees of separation. Your sister is married to LOML’s brother. Your family’s cottage was across the road from LOML’s family’s cottage. You could waterski like a superstar and never get your hair wet, which was a big deal in the ‘60s years of big hair. I, on the other hand, waterskied like a rock being towed by a paddle wheeler. Needless to say, my hair always got wet and my body often bore the bruises of the tow bar and the rope. You and I attended the same high school. You were “the rock star” among the students and staff. Your face could have been a brand for what a student should be. You were in all of the clubs and a member of several teams. I was a fan. The thing is, in spite of your “celebrity,” when you saw me in the hall, you treated me as if I’d made your day. You were like that, always. We graduated the same year and you bought a Mustang and I dreamed about owning a car, but was afraid to take a driving test.
After high school I saw you whenever I was visiting with LOML at his family cottage or at family gatherings. You were always funny. You were always laughing. You were always kind and caring and always a good listener. I married your sister’s husband’s brother. Even though you weren’t a guest at our teeny, tiny wedding, you sent us a gift, and a card. I still have the card. I would probably still have the gift but fondue pots fell out of fashion for a couple of decades and I sent my collection to thrift shop. But there you were at the bridal and baby showers held for me. When we had our youngest daughter (the final addition to our family), you joked about me being the oldest “new mom” you’d ever met, but there you were, eager to hold “the kid” and we talked about how being a mom was a game changer.
Saturday, LOML and I drove for five hours to attend a celebration of your life, and what a celebration it was. Even though you were “unable to attend”, you managed to bring together hundreds of family members and friends. I wasn’t surprised by the crowd. I don’t think anyone was. In that sea of smiling faces, and a few teary ones, everyone said the same thing, “Marilyn always made me feel as if I’d made her day.” Or, “Marilyn always wanted to know how I was doing, even when she wasn’t doing very well.” I felt as if you might walk into the room and ask each and every person how they were feeling.Many of us are blessed with a person like Marilyn K., who has a zest for life. A person in our life who makes us smile when we see them, or when we hear their voice. A person who just makes your life richer and more interesting. Marilyn K. was a true gift.
About a decade ago, Marilyn was diagnosed with cancer. Whenever I asked how her she was doing she’d answer, “I’m great! How are you? How’s your family?” You were pretty darn great, Marilyn K. Cancer is a contemptible (not the “F” word I wanted to use) scourge. Billions of dollars have been raised and spent on research and it is fair to ask, “Why haven’t we got a cure?” I know. I know. It’s not that simple. We all know someone who has dealt with cancer. Support them any way you can. A call. A visit. A card. A meal. If you can, make a donation to a local charity that supports people with health and life challenges. We miss you Marilyn K. You were one of the good ones
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