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May 16, 2001 - My Sad Familiar
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"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile,
a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the
smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to
turn a life around." -- Dr. Leo Buscaglia
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Today's story is by one of our Writers of the Month, Linda Carlson.
Linda was worried that this story might be a "downer", but we both felt its message was important and hope that you will gain from it the lesson of how precious and fragile the good things of life, such as friendship, are and live so that you will have no regrets.
"My Sad Familiar"
by Linda Carlson
She and I were the same age. She and I were engaged to the same guy, but not at the same time. The difference was, I moved on and left him behind... and she married him. They went on to have a little girl... they named her Tracey. I babysat Tracey when she was tiny.
Jane and he divorced, and it left her a struggling single mom. I wondered why he couldn't have been what she needed. I lost track after awhile, but had heard about Tracey's battle with Luekemia. I would see them, she and her mom, every once in awhile. At the ballpark, the movies. Tracey's little bald head shining out and held high like a badge of honor for bravery from the terrible fight she fought. And Jane was always there...quietly in the background.
Loving, supporting, encouraging...filling in the gaps. Trying valiantly to be strength For her daughter. I believed there was none left for herself when all was said and done. I hadn't heard anything for quite some time... but had wondered often. Then finally, I got the word. Tracey was gone. She had died lying in her daddy's arms.
I felt sad for him... and for Jane. I had remembered enduring his pain when his sister had died unexpectedly years before, leaving a little girl and boy, and a young lost husband to pick up and try to carry on. I was there. And I couldn't imagine his pain at losing his only daughter... and there was Jane.
Time has a way of going on. We have a tendency to forget what's gone on before. I saw Jane once in awhile. She always had a quick smile...but her eyes were always sad. Sometimes she'd say she was struggling-or-"coping the best she could"... other times she said she was just doing fine.
The last time I saw her, she was occupied with her teenaged son's activities. I didn't even know she'd had another child, or that she'd even been with anyone else since the divorce. But I did catch that comment about how her Tracey and our oldest son would have been the same age "this year" had Tracey been there. She was smiling and seemed happy and "caught up". I remembered thinking, "gee, it's nice to see Jane doing so well for a change." That was probably about two years ago. I left with that picture of Jane standing there happy in the archives of my memory stored.
Today... they buried Jane.
She and I, uncommonly tied through the years with delicate, perishable threads. Our lives touching hap-hazardly here and there, like butterflies with broken wings trying their hardest not to crash-land in the garden of life.
I admired her. She'd been through much pain...faced fatal foes and won. Or-so we thought. But she was mortally wounded...with her life ebbing away.
Jane hanged herself. Alone, at home this week. She was preceeded in death by: A life filled with dreams unfulfilled, Promises broken, and... A precious daughter named Tracey.
I asked, and questioned, and queried, and railed about this earth shattering event in MY life! God?....Couldn't she have overcome the pain of so great a loss? Didn't she know she was inscribed on the palms of your hands? Or-were there too many losses that she just couldn't quite seem to recover from them all?
One thing for certain. If I ever see "Jane" again...in the neighborhood, down the street, in church, or anywhere ever again, I will never just walk away. I will reach more... take risks, go out of my way...
For right now, my heart aches remembering what could have been. It's too late to say, "I really do care." "Let's get together, let me take you to lunch..."
Jane's gone.
I liked her. She was a noble struggler who just finally wore down from the fray. I wish I had helped her do battle. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference. But then, maybe it would have.
She and I were the same age. She and I were engaged to the same guy. But not at the same time. I babysat for baby girl, Tracey.
We had been uncommonly tied together in life with delicate perishable threads...our lives touching down just now and again. I liked her, And I wish, in the long run of things, looking back...I'd been there for her.
In memory of Jane (Eaves) Lass, who lost her life to suicide this week... March, 2001.
Linda Carlson copyright 2001
jljc@netins.net
Note from Linda: If there is a positive message to this, I guess it would have to be an admonishment to all, to extend themselves to others at every opportune moment.
Read more about Linda here:
http://www.2theheart.com/writers_hall_of_fame/
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The Letter Box:
Dear Mary Ellen,
I always enjoy your stories and have come across you several times on the internet! 2TheHeart is my ultimate favorite and it's great to see you writing for this list! Keep on writing!
God bless,
~Jessica Holmes, CT
Dear Mary Ellen,
After reading your story this morning, I went to 2TheHeart's Art &
Poetry page (http://www.2theheart.com/art___poetry_/). First, I must say, this page took my breath away! The soothing music, the incredible art work and the touching poetry truly was a blessing to behold! Your poem, "Passing" really touched my heart. I have been one of the hundreds of people following Susan's sister, Angel, in her illness. I wept when I learned that she had passed away last week. From Susan's stories, I felt like I knew her, and truly loved her myself. I have emailed with several other 2theheart members who feel the same way. We all feel as if we lost someone we loved dearly. Your poem was so perfect and truly helped. It's peaceful message was truly beautiful. Thank you.
~Barb
Dear Mary Ellen,
Another wonderfully nostalgic story! Love your style! Keep them coming!
~Joyce Dawber, BC
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Making a difference, one story at a time!
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