I got a message last night telling me my cousin Mike was dying. A few hours later, there was a second message confirming he was gone. Mike was one of four cousins on one side of my family. Kathy, Mike, Robert, and Kim were siblings and ranged from two to nine years older than me. I spent a great deal of time at their house when I was little so they felt like family. I was an only child and thought it was cool to be surrounded by them.
As life took us in different directions, the distance grew. I probably haven't seen Mike since 1995 when I moved out of state. I may have seen him at a family BBQ on a visit home, but I don't know that I did. The good news is he is forever stuck in my memory as a much younger version. The bad news is he is forever stuck as ONLY a memory. The chance of seeing him again is gone.
As I spent time thinking about him last night and today, my first thought always turns to what a sweet guy he was. He wore his heart on his sleeve and wasn't afraid to let his tears flow. He was an emotional, sweet, kind, and funny man who had a heart of gold.
I regret that I had not seen him in so long. When someone dies, it is then we often find ourselves looking for photos. Why? Why do we wait until death takes someone before we spend time looking at moments captured? As a kid, we were almost seven years apart so we were never really in the same life stage until adults. By then, that's captured only at family gatherings and special events. There were a lot of those, but not enough.
I only have six first cousins, and now one is gone. The family is scattered and the BBQ and volleyball parties are a distant memory I hope I never lose.
In a quick dive into my photos, I only found a few of Mike, although I'm sure I have a few more from further back in time. I love the first one, at my wedding. The photo isn't great - it's from behind. But I love the emotions it evokes. Our arms are around each other, and you can tell by the look on my face that it was a precious moment. Whatever he was saying was something very tender, probably emotional, and I'm certain he was crying. I mean, I WAS his only little cousin, and that was my wedding day. To add more fun to this, that's my cousin Kim's husband, Mark, photobombing before that was even a thing. It made me laugh.
The second photo captures the sweetness I remember. He had been talking to his sister Kim and both had been laughing in the photo taken previous to this one. I hope our family loss will remind you to dig out your photos and remember someone today.
Mike - as just a kid, I thought it was cool that you worked for Pepsi. It felt like a dream job to me at the time! I'm guessing Misty has a tiny, worn-out piece of string that has been waiting for you to throw. Crazy dog!
One More Thing...
Don't wait too long. Life is always shorter than we think it will be. Always.
Take care, and I'm always here to pray for you if you have a need or request.
Lois Lynn
Don't wait too long. Life is always shorter than we think it will be. Always.
Take care, and I'm always here to pray for you if you have a need or request.
Lois Lynn
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What a sweet and heartfelt tribute to Mike. He will forever be a goofy, smiling version in my head as well.
ReplyDeleteI love the word "goofy" and it sums up such a delightful mindset. I need more of that!
DeleteLois, as I read your blog for the first time, I realize how great God's timing is. My Uncle Neal is the last of my Dad's brothers and sisters and he has but moments left of his long (92 years old) but too short (for those who loved him) life. I'm happy to say that he (with a few other Shriners) raised over $1.5 million dollars for disabled kids. He always said " There is no greater joy than seeing a disabled child walk." He made that happen many times! Thank you for reminding me to take a few minutes to remember him before he is gone.
ReplyDeleteOh Laura, that is a beautiful legacy for Neal. Thank you for sharing his story.
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