Another Remembrance

Wow! Another voice from the past. A few days ago I received a notice from the Open to Hope Foundation, for which I write articles on surviving grief also, saying that someone was looking for me to tell me a story about my daughter Marcy. I didn’t recognize the gentleman’s name, but something told me this was the real thing, not someone trying to delve into my personal life or some quack. So I sent an email to this gentleman saying he could contact me. Within a couple of hours he called.

He turned out to be a friend of Marcy’s from the high school youth organizations the kids belonged to many years ago. In fact, he said, they went out a few times. He did not know about Marcy’s car accident at first but found out later on through other friends. He offered his sympathy and wanted me to know what a wonderful person he thought she was, a kind, gentle soul with a personality that matched. My heart soared. So many people telling me the same thing over the years. Yes, she was special. And here was another person, more than 16 years after her death, still remembering as I do every minute of every day.

He lives close to me and has always been in the area. He caught me up on his own life and the fact that he has a daughter who is almost an adult now. He sounded very proud of her.

Love her and take good care of her, I thought. Every minute is precious, because you never know what can happen in a split second. I think this but never voice it to him nor anyone else. There are some things you just keep in your heart for you alone.

Deep down, a memory of this gentleman’s name surfaced, probably because I knew most of Marcy’s friends and people she liked and dated. I was always good at names. And she was always good at relating all her experiences with me. We were extremely close.

He mentioned some other friends of both of theirs who had passed and asked if I knew any of them. Yes, I had and was sorry to hear the news of ones so young, already gone. He said he was going to read my book and then contact me again. “By all means, do,” I said. I thanked him for calling and his kind words about Marcy and he, in turn, thanked me for all the good work I do to help others.

Another day with another memory of my daughter. Perhaps it is true that I will get my wish and she will never be forgotten.