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Memories:

Why do we remember some events in our lives so vividly, while others are fuzzy and hazy.

I was once told our brains are like a large room filled with file cabinets, as time marches on we fill these cabinets with the events of out lives, the room is well lit so that when we want to bring back a memory we open the cabinet and look at it. As we get older the cabinets begin to overflow so we take some of the memories out of the cabinets and put them into boxes and store them in another room that is dimly lit, when we reach for these memories they are still there but due to the darkness of the room they appear fuzzy and indistinct some sre covered in a layer of dust.

I look back on the last two years of my life, I see the pain and anguish I felt as my wife of 28 years died, I was 48 too young to be a widower, yet I was, the dreams of our future together were gone. I can still see her in that hospital room, laying in the bed, never to see her eyes sparkle and shine, never to see her sweet smile that lit up a room never to feel the warmth of her hand in mine as we sat and talked. The anger I hurled at God and the immediate asking for His love and His strength to help me understand. I went to mass that night, it was Holy Saturday, I needed to be with God, I wanted to be close to Him, to feel His presence, to love Him with all my heart. As I sat there at the Easter Vigil, I was filled with a sense of relief, I heard a sweet voice, telling me that she could feel my love, that she was safe, I heard her laugh as she told me she could walk again and it was a wonderful place, so beautiful and there was love, a love that cannot be described, she told me not to worry, not to be sad, as we will be together again, God has things for me to do and to accomplish and I was to go on and do what I was to do and she would wait for me, because when I join her we would have an eternity together.

The days between that day and her funeral are a blur, I remember her funeral, going to the funeral home, saying good by and giving her a last kiss. The Mass was given by Father Bill, he reminded me in his Homily that Donna was born in the Christmas Season and died in the Easter Season, what a powerful way to remind me that she was with God at that time.

The first year flew by quickly, I was keeping myself busy, doing the work I loved and striving towards my goals, I was grand Knight of my Knights of Columbus Council, I was active in my church and all was right with the world, then I was stopped short with a Heart Attack, it came out of nowhere, hit me hard, I was found to have two Coronary Arteries completely blocked, a Stent was placed in one, but the second the plaque had calcified and it could not be opened, I went home from the hospital and was going to work on recovery, but that did not happen a few days later I had a Stroke, while in the hospital, I remember seeing my wife, so vividly, she was walking towards me, her smile as I remember it, she was holding someones hand that I could not see because of the brightness, I heard Donna saying Mark it is not time yet, as I heard and felt a nurse shaking me and calling my name, I did not want to leave, but I felt myself waking up in the hospital room, my nurse had come into the room because my pulse rate had dropped below 20 beats a minute, she told me when she got to the room i was bearly breathing, but she said I was mumbling something so she knew she could probably wake me, but had also called for assistance as she tried to wake me.

After the Stroke I was found to have MS as well, dur to the MS I had to go into a wheelchair, I fought back in a rehabilitation hospital and walked out with just a cane, i still have not lost my smile, my laughter or my desire to live life to it's fullest.

As the second year since Donna's death draws to a close, the anniversary of her funeral is on the 28th, I am filled with a spirit that she is with me, guiding me, and telling me to be happy.

It is time to put those files into a box, leaving the ones of her smiles, her laughter and her warmth in the light, the rest must be packed away, I will never forget her, she will always be in my heart, but I must move on and live and not remembering how Donna died, but how she lived. Donna I love you.