Cherry Blossom Candy Leaf

I have been trying to make sense of my feelings this last week, thinking about days throughout my life that have been the most sad and have tested my strength. Nothing compares to this. Marilyn's funeral was yesterday. It was a gorgeous day and so many people came that all the seats in the chapel were filled, it was standing room only in the back, and a group even larger than that had to listen to the service through speakers outside. She had a lot of friends. When we followed the casket to Marilyn's grave, I turned around and could not believe how many people walked behind us. The minister said that the saddest funerals are the ones with only a few people. Marilyn had hundreds. We tried to honor her fight and pay tribute to her life and I think she would have been proud of us.

I am trying not to have regrets, but regret is truly a drooling monster that lives inside me. I have to tell myself that Marilyn knew that I loved her. Grandma said that, "Marilyn knew all of [our] shortcomings and loved [us] anyway." Several days after Marilyn died, Danny was trying to straighten out the office and he found a spiral notebook where Marilyn began writing letters to all of us. There was a letter with all of our names at the top and she began writing a "private" one to each of us. She had only began Keith's, but it felt like a gift. It was probably too hard to finish them because it meant thinking about the days that she wouldn't be here for us.

When Marilyn came back from her last stay in the hospital about six weeks ago, it was hard to get her alone. Keith was with her every moment that he didn't work. Eventually, his parents came to be with her while he worked. Ben would relieve them at lunch and we would come after work. Ben was with her every day. In those first days in bed at home, Marilyn knew that she would never give up, but she certainly had doubts and had to make arrangements. She asked us to take care of Keith and Danny because Ben and I would have each other and neither one of them would have anyone.

The night before Marilyn's funeral, I sat with Keith and he expressed his own fears for Danny. This is complete devastation, but still there is Danny, the light in Marilyn's eyes. He has been strength for us. We are forced to push through the pain a lot for him, although I sometimes can't keep in the tears when he's around, and I don't want to. Yesterday at his mom's funeral, he couldn't really speak all day. He went inward and all I could say was, "We love you so much." Danny, I hope you know that our love for you is truly endless. If you ever need anything, we are here. Our greatest pain is yours.