A week ago, my brother Gary called me on my cell phone to tell me Sharon, his wife of 19 years died suddenly. Sharon and I were about the same age–47. She had been, I believe, diabetic and several years ago had a kidney transplant. She’s never been robustly healthy, but I never thought she would die this young.
She and my brother had one of those rare marriages—they were just so devoted to each other and were best friends. They have one daughter, Rachael who is now 19.
I was able to go to the funeral on Saturday. (They live in Ohio and I live in Nevada). I wanted to go and see everybody, and I also didn’t want to because it’s just so painful.
I had a great deal of respect for Sharon. She was so intelligent and so kind. I remember when a bunch of us went to Cedar Point years ago. And she stayed with her infant nephew so everybody else could go on rides. She was really good for my brother, who, when they met was an angry guy who was starting to get into drinking. She helped him grow up.
My brother will be lost without her. Her parents (who also lost Sharon’s old brother to a car accident years ago) and Gary were shell-shocked. All I could do was hug them and cry, but it doesn’t seem enough.
Today when I got back home, I called Gary and he told me he was glad I came. He said it was sad with me there, but it would have been sadder had I not come.
Sometimes, the things that happen make no sense. I am reminded of that quote from The Princess Bride —“Life is pain…anybody who says differently is selling something.” Now I know how true that is.
