My heart sank Monday morning when I opened my email from “Suburban Family” writer, Teri Lyon and saw the first line of her column.
“My beautiful mother passed away two weeks ago,” it reads.
The ache in my throat grew as I continued to read, and I thought to myself, “there won’t be a dry eye among our readers when this publishes.”
I didn’t know Teri’s mom, Mary ann Kalaha, but she sounds a lot like my own mother, Dawn Baumeister. Especially in the description Teri quotes from the eulogy given by her cousin, Andrew Dubill, of the “embodiment of overwhelming love.”
You can read Teri’s column here.
Next, I opened my email from “In the Abingtons” columnist, Linda Scott, and the same sinking feeling returned for the second time that morning.
It was the second line of Linda’s email that caught my breath: “My uncle died yesterday,” she told me.
Linda’s uncle, Dominic “Dom” Scott, was a member of the Clarks Summit Borough Council for nearly eight years before stepping down last month due to illness.
I did not know Dom well, but from the brief interactions we shared, and from what others told me, I knew him to be a man of honor who cared about his family, country and community.
I saw him two Sundays ago at the Rotary club’s Taste of the Abingtons event. At the time, I knew he’d been sick, but he didn’t look different – the same smile greeted me as always.
The timing of news of these two deaths reaching me within the same hour prompted me to think about life and death. I view life as a library. Some of its books are empty and represent experiences yet to occur. When a person dies, these disintegrate. The rest of the books are loaded with words, and upon death, they remain behind as memories in the hands of the person’s loved ones.
I can only imagine the enormity of the libraries left behind for these two grieving families. But I’m sure inside those pages are many memorable and inspiring stories.
Contact the writer: firstname.lastname@example.org; 570-348-9185, ext. 3492