Mary and Marla

It's Labor Day weekend and I have been reminded, once again, of the fragility of life and the sadness that loss brings to family and friends.  Mary Downs and Marla Harris never met each other but they died on Thursday and I knew them, albeit not well.  Mary was the wife of long time teacher, Terry Downs, and over the past twenty years (or so), I have talked with Mary at the odd faculty gathering.  I remember when she gave birth to Sara and her son, Brian, a current sophomore at O'Hara.  Just last May I marveled at the fact that she was driving the kids to and from O'Hara, having suffered for many years from some kind of a neurological, seizure disorder.  I talked last with her at the faculty gathering in May.  Diagnosed with cancer in July, Mary had only a short battle with the vicious disease.

Marla was the mother of  Megan, Becca's first college roommate and still dear friend.  I bonded with Marla over the travails of moving our two freshmen into a 8 x 10 room at Creighton and shared stories that first semester at Parents Weekend.  Megan decided to transfer at semester and Marla and I shared a Mexican meal with the girls at Habeneros as they parted.  Megan and Becca have remained fast friends with numerous road trips between Sedalia and Kansas City by both girls.  And, I kept up with Marla through Megan, from the devastating diagnosis of leukemia, through last Thursday.

And, so, although I did not know Mary or Marla very well, I do know their children, and I happen to believe that it is possible to learn a lot about a woman when one knows her children.  I know that Mary had incredible determination and faith because her daughter, Sara, showed that each day at O'Hara as she took the stage for various plays and served as a leader for our senior Kairos retreat.  That determination and faith live on in Sara and in Brian, who is just beginning his sophomore year at O'Hara.  And, I could see the enormous capacity for love that was Marla's gift to Megan.  Throughout her battle with leukemia, Megan started "Hope for Marla", a prayer campaign complete with wristbands.  Megan carried on at Mizzou and spent as much time as she could with her lovely mom.  A warm and caring woman, Marla had a quick smile for everyone she met and it was like meeting an old friend when I learned that she had grown up in Jefferson City.  So, we bonded about growing up in a small town in central Missouri.

I feel so deeply for the Downs and Harris families.  I so cherish my adult time with my own mom, and I feel sad that Sara, Brian, Megan, and her brothers have been cheated of that experience with their own moms.  But, the gifts of their moms will live on in them.  And, so I am reminded of how precious and fragile life is.  We are here but for a short time.  Please don't waste that time arguing with your mom or wishing your child could be this way or that.  Hold on to each other.  Cherish each moment, even the arguments over hair length and curfew.   I know that I will do so.  It's especially important on this weekend.  Twenty years ago I gave birth to my last child, Matthew.  His name means "Child of God" and each day I thank God for bringing him (and his sisters) to us.  I plan to spend a little more time with these "gifts" because none of us knows what the future might bring.  I hope to live to be a very old grandma, but that is in someone else's hands.  What I can do is live life fully, in appreciation and joy.