Do.

This may not have much to do with this post, but my brother and I were watching The Shawshank Redemption the other night (one of my dad's favorites)and this really stuck with me. Red is reading a letter than Andy wrote to him and it reads, "Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies." Hope is the best of things. That's what sadness takes from you. It takes the hope of a better day. It takes the hope of a future. You're too scared to let hope in your house after tragedy. But you can take back hope. I am taking back hope. It never dies. My parents died, but the hope that they had for their children lives on in my hope. I carry the hope of my parents in my heart and in my head. When I feel hope slipping away and worrying about the future, I need to remind myself of this quote. Hope is the best of things and it never dies. You just may need to search a bit to find it. But I promise it's there.

When you lose one parent, your world and your heart is broken. When you lose someone as dynamic as my mom, that loss and that brokenness is magnified by about one million. But, like I wrote, I was healing. I was mending. I am healing and mending. I know my life and I know my feelings, but what I've realized is that others don't. I've labeled the looks you get as the "sad eyes." The "how are you doing?" slight head tilt, sad eyes. I don't mean to make light of this because I know people mean the best, but that's probably the hardest question to answer. First, do you really want to know? Because we could be here a while. Second, are you asking because you've been wondering or because you are sure I can't get out of bed and just want to confirm it? When a second parent dies, and dies so soon after the first, the sad eyes are out in full force. I don't know how I'm supposed to be acting, but even though my parents are gone, I still need to go to the grocery store. I still need to cut the grass. I still want to go for a run around town. Here is my point. Please ask me how I'm doing--or anyone who you might know in a similar situation. Please keep my family in your thoughts. Please say some prayers for us. But don't pity us. Don't shake your head and think, "Those poor kids." Because we don't feel that way. We feel blessed. We don't have parents anymore. We can't make new memories. But we have damn good memories of the past 27, 24, and 21 years. Death can't take those away. Yes, there is sadness. But I assure you there is joy. We are still blessed. So, "how are you doing" is a very complicated questions. Am I good? Yeah, I think I am. I'm a new good. I'm a learning to mend good. Am I sad? Yeah, I'm sure a part of me will always be sad. It's funny because when I get the sad eyes, I, unknowingly, have a standard answer of reassurance. I tilt my head slightly, smile, and say, "We're okay. We're hanging in there." I don't even know where this comes from. It just happens. So, let's make a deal. Ask me how I'm doing, but change it up. Say, "I thought about a memory of your dad the other day." Or, "I thought of you all and smiled today." Then I won't tilt my head. I'll look at you and respond, "Thank you. I smiled because of my parents today too." Deal?

My dad was always trying to impart his wisdom on his kids. This was usually met with an eye roll and a half-hearted attempt to listen. But I was listening. "You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar." Okay, I won't yell at the Dept of Ed when I finally talk to someone after days on hold. I'll be calm and they'll gladly process my application. Which they did. There Dad, you win. Here's one piece that has always stuck with me. He drilled it into us to be a "first hi-er." When you are walking somewhere, he told us, and someone is coming in the opposite direction, you say hi first. Don't avert your eyes, don't wait for them to say it. Personally thank someone if their good or service meant something to you. Be personable. My dad would say hi to someone 50 yards down the road or across a parking lot. This embarrassed my mom to no end. "They don't want to say hi to you!" she would say. We started telling him he was looking for "heaven points" by talking to so many people. I hope he's putting them to good use. Here's what I've learned from all of this. People don't do what you expect. Sometimes they exceed it. Sometimes they fall short. When my mom died, I expected a lot from people and was let down. So, this time around, I'm letting it known what I expect and what I want.

If you feel sad for me, I want you to tell me. If you want to reminisce with me, let's do it. If you want to talk, let's talk. If you think you want to do something nice for my family, do it. Just do something. Don't let so much time go by that you think it's too late. It's not too late. If you want to send a card, it's never too late to read kind words. If you think you'd like to send us dinner, we'll take it! Just do something. Not just for me and my family, but for anything. Don't put life off so much that it passes you by. Don't let a friendship lapse because you think you waited too long to contact them. Act. Do. I'm on the other side of this equation guaranteeing you that it will be appreciated. My siblings and I are making a conscious effort to make sure our door is always open. And I would hope that folks in a similar situation would do the same. Come over and watch a Pens game with us. Come visit Saturday morning. Just know that some people in my house sleep a little bit later than most. Back to the point, do something. Don't put off calling a friend because that friend may be expecting it more than you know. Some of the best-intentioned ideas never make it to fruition. Be the person who makes that happen. I promise you it's never too late. It's never too late for good intentions. Just do something.