Dad died in 1997, Mom in 2011. How many times do I wish I had one more day? When no one else knew my heart, they did. My Dad was a firefighter. I still say a Hail Mary when I hear a siren. He taught all six of us kids to do that for the people who needed help right then & there! Funny thing is he wanted us to pray for the injured or sick. And more often than not, nowadays, I pray for them both! My Dad was my hero, guardian, and mentor. I carry in my purse, his silly plastic glow in the dark rosary he kept in the car and used often.
My mom became one of my best friends! She lived with me her last 5 years. She showed me how to die with grace and dignity. There is a hollow emptiness in a part of my Spirit that went to heaven with them. In its place is the promise of hope that one day united with Christ, we shall rejoice together.
All I have ever wanted was a marriage like theirs. Ups and downs, struggle and strife, they truly were best friends! They needed no one else to feel alive and loved. No matter the season, at sunset they would sit out at First Street Beach in Manistee and pray a rosary together. They lived and loved as true Christians.