March is a month of transformation and growth. It marks the shift from winter to spring, from darkness to light, and from barrenness to fertility. Moreover, for those who follow college basketball, it is the most thrilling three weeks of the year. At one time, I also regarded it as a month of change and evolution.
In March, I am reminded of what was. It marks her entrance into the world, her departure from it, and the cruel echo of her absence that reverberates most profoundly in my soul.
March 17 is a day of festivities, celebration, and joy for many Americans. However, on this day 18 years ago, what began as a typical day quickly turned when I received a call just before 8:00 am saying, “She is not doing very well; you should come.”
As I entered her room, my heart was racing with anticipation and fear. I could see her lying there, frail and weak. Without wasting another moment, I grabbed her hand tightly and whispered, “Mom, I am here.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if she had been waiting for me to arrive. It was a moment of profound sadness and unspoken love. As I stood there, trying to process what had just happened, I knew I needed my wife by my side. So, I quickly dialed her number and asked her to come.
“I hope you never hear those words. Your mom. She died. They are different than other words. They are too big to fit in your ears. They belong to some strange, heavy, powerful language that pounds away at the side of your head, a wrecking ball coming at you again and again, until finally, the words crack a hole large enough to fit inside your brain. And in so doing, they split you apart.”
For One More Day – Mitch Albom
The next few hours were a whirlwind of emotions. Phone calls were made to family and friends to let them know about what had happened. Amidst all the chaos, there was one promise that had to be kept. It was St Patrick’s Day and we had promised our two-year-old son that he could watch the parade. Despite the heavy heart, we wanted to make sure he got to experience the joy and excitement of the parade. It was a bittersweet moment, knowing that our little one had no idea of the tragedy that had struck. It would be great if we could all take a break from the chaos and simply soak in the joy of a parade. Sadly, that wasn’t my experience. Even though my son was having a blast, I couldn’t shake off this feeling of emptiness.
As the years have passed since my mother’s passing, I have hoped that the feeling of emptiness would eventually go away. Unfortunately, it hasn’t. Every year in March, I find myself drawn to “For One More Day” by Mitch Albom. One of my favorite quotes from the book is “Sharing tales of those we’ve lost is how we keep from really losing them.” Therefore, I encourage you to share the story of a loved one who is no longer with us as you go about your day today.
Sireadh Toileachas 