She Changed The World

Today, as I write and reflect and pray, I dedicate my thoughts to ALL who have changed the world, not just my Allison, but today, and the last week, my heart has travelled with the family of Tanner, the Lowrance's and the Wallace's and the Sheridan's, and others whose names I may not know...may the family, someday, find reasons to celebrate the difference he made, and the ways in which he, too, changed the world.

This week, a site I visit often, The Compassionate Friends network, (thank you, Joe S.), the question was asked...How did your child, sibling, grandchild change the world? I don't know if I ever thought of such a question, let alone, an answer. But I have thought about how both my children have changed MY world. And to wonder how my deceased child has changed the world, well, that is a very profound question.

We, the mothers or fathers who have lost our children, the sisters or brothers, or the aunts and uncles, the grandparents, might like to think that our baby, our child, our daughter, our son, no matter the age when they left, no matter the circumstance, may have left a mark on the world. We may like to believe that someone's life has changed, even if it's just one, for the better, because ours lived, and then didn't. And sometimes, we take on the responsibility to keep that memory alive, because it is the only way that we feel we are alive, too. It helps us know that inside, when we feel we are dying, actually, we are living. It is the only purpose to our being, maybe for awhile, maybe forever, maybe for a day, maybe for an hour when we get the opportunity to talk about that beloved.

So, I contemplate...and in my dark hours when I feel completely alone and lost in my grief, I know, I know Allison changed the world. She changed the world in ways I may never know. But bit by bit, I am blessed to know, sometimes, how her life has changed others, and ultimately those around them, and the circle widens. When I do have those courageous souls who will actually share with me that her constant smile in this life helps them smile through bad times, I am blessed. When the bold ones tell me that they have never taken a day for granted since her passing, because if Allison Haake could die from lung cancer, well....what does that say for the rest of us, I smile to know that someone has actually gained something from our tragedy. When I am given each new day to see her sister blossom and grow into an amazing young woman in her own right, I know it is Allison who gives her strength, and when I see her turn to God, I am thankful, for without God, we are nothing, dust to dust, ash to ash. When I am told that libraries hold books in her memory, how joyful I feel, the sadness dissipates for a moment, for there was nothing Allison loved more than being read to, or reading those non-fiction books of truth and life, and yes, even pain and struggles and death. When I am told by a colleague of mine that when middle school girls come into her office, and they have the brightest, piercing eyes, she thinks of Allison, and she is calmed in her interactions, I whisper a thanks to Allison. And when the circle keeps widening and tightening with love, when her own family now trusts that a plan is in place, that yes, we have to do our part, work hard, love unconditionally, savor the moment, make new memories, hold each other's hands, never judge, just BE where God needs us to be, well, then, I know all is right with the world and she is changing ours, bit by bit, day by day, now year by year.

I suppose one big fear when we lose our loved one is that no one will remember. Other mothers have shared that with me. Mothers of newborns who live a day, three days, a month, mothers of children of all ages who have been taken from us by cancer, and mothers whose children took their own lives, for reasons never to be revealled in this lifetime, yet reasons that maybe someday will bring a peace that passes all understanding. We do fear that others won't remember. That fear sets in for all those who have lost a loved one. We want that loved one remembered, even though, in initial stages, and maybe during trying milestones, we can barely speak of them, we secretly hope someone else will...someone else will tell the story, relive the memory, remember the life as they lived, not as they died, and help us to know how that our cherished soul made a difference. It helps in grief to know that our loved one served a purpose. No matter the stage of grief, the years that pass, the beginning days, grief is a complexity that we so often dance around. We know not what to do. We know not what to say. It's when we follow our heart, and do or say what feels right, that we cannot go wrong. Maybe today we can tell someone who lost their child, or their spouse, or their sister or brother, or mother or father, or aunt or uncle, or niece or nephew, or friend, or their grandparent, just how that person changed your world. And if not today, maybe tomorrow, or the next day...for everyone under heaven has their purpose, and whether we know it or not, or are ever told or not, we each change the world, and hopefully, always for the better.

Allison, you changed my world. You give me strength, you give me hope, and you give me faith. You led your uncle into his purpose under heaven, only to be welcomed by our Lord and Savior, you are there with open arms when it is time for others to join you, and this life shows us that it won't be long. We know not who, or when, or why, or how, but we know that to understand life is to understand death, death from this world, but life for eternity. None of us would be where we are, what we are, who we are, if not for you and the life you left us, and that alone, has changed my world.