This is pretty long, so bear with me:

I feel as if I will remember this day every day for the rest of my life, the day he died. It never fails that I am reminded of the emotional week that Spring Break of my Sophomore year of college turned into. I had the week planned out. Every day had a specific purpose of making my Spring Break an actual break. I chose to spend the first weekend with my oldest sister at my dad’s house, then get a tattoo and head to Missouri to visit my other sister throughout the weekdays and finish the other weekend working at Cracker Barrel.

Upon coming home to see my oldest sister, my stepmother came running into the house with tears streaming down her face. My sister and I sat there deciding how to react to this situation. It was no surprise to us that she was crying because that happened quite often. The easiest way to describe my stepmother is sensitive. She emerged from her room and told us that my dad had just told her that he wanted a divorce. This came to us as a huge shock because my dad cheated on my mother with this woman. He told her that he was not in love with her. Finding out about the end of my father’s marriage through his wife was really hard for the both of us.

My sisters and I took this as just another step in our journey into adulthood. We were forced to grow up quickly in high school because of family issues, so this new challenge was nothing new to us. Never did we realize where the week would turn.

My stepdad, Mark, battled with his health for a very long time. Diabetes consumed his well-being. His hands and feet, numb. His kidneys failed. His eyesight, weak. He struggled to do daily functions. He was eventually on consistent dialysis and wheelchair bound. All before he turned 50.

Never would anyone realize how much pain my stepdad was in though because he hid it so well. He had humor that could fill a room with laughter. He had this goofy giggle and these big dimples that people fell in love with. Mostly, he had a heart for people. He always wanted to help. He made my mother check up on me and always made sure that I was taken care of. Mark had such a kind, gentle heart.

My mom allowed me to use her vehicle to drive to Missouri that week because mine was acting up. On the way back to town, I dropped the vehicle off at my mom’s. I stayed and hung out for a little while. Mark was in and out of sleep. Mom told me that Mark left work early that day because he was not feeling well. This was pretty usual for Mark. His dialysis was really hard on him and sometimes, he just had bad days. He still grinned and asked me if I needed anything to eat.

I was eager to get back to my house because I had to work early the next morning. I hugged them quickly and went on my way- little was I aware that that would be the last Mark hug that I got.

Cracker Barrel was exactly the same as I remembered it. The smell of biscuits, pancakes, fried food, and old people. The arguments of servers. The frustrated managers encouraging people to actually work.

I ran to the break room to chug some lemon water when I realized that I had a missed call from my mom. She had mentioned the night before that she and Mark would possibly come into Cracker Barrel for dinner. I thought she was just calling to ask when I got off so that they could stop by. Boy, was I wrong? I listened to the voicemail, where my mom was crying. I could barely understand it so I replayed it about four times. She kept saying, “I went to pick up Mark. He crashed….I’m following the ambulance...I think this is it. He’s gone. Mark’s gone forever.” My mother hysterically telling me that my stepfather was now passed away when I had just seen him yesterday was something I didn't know how to take in. I called her. Four times. No answer. My heart now beating as fast as it ever had. I called my little sister who knew nothing about what was going on.

Finally, my mom picked up. She said that they got his heart beating again, but he had had a heart attack while at dialysis. I asked her if she wanted me to drive to the hospital which is when she said she needed me there. My mom did not call any of my other sisters, so I was left to filling them in on what was going home. I walked back onto the floor of Cracker Barrel, where I had another table sat. I greeted them and in that moment, I realized how much I did not care what they wanted to eat. I had no desire to get them drinks or give them any service. I transferred my tables to the other servers. It began to sink in how serious this was when I walked in to talk to my manager about going home and the tears came streaming down my face. Warm, thick tears rolled out of my eyes like I had never really experienced before.

My little sister decided she would come to the hospital with me. I stopped at my dad’s house to get a change of clothes so that I wouldn’t have remains of chicken and dumpling's all over me at the hospital. Pulling out of the driveway, my stepmother pulled in, emptying the house of all of her belongings. We were anxiety-filled and trying to stay positive as we pulled onto the highway. I turned on Adele and we sang all of the ways there. I was outside of Taylorville finally when I called my mom for directions. I asked her how he was doing, assuming he was fine because she was so calm. She simply stated, “He’s gone, Morgan.” My heart and stomach dropped as I yelled the word “NO.” This wasn’t happening to us. Not to our family. Not at the same time as losing our stepmother as well. How can you go from four parents to two within seven days?

We got to the hospital about five minutes later. I called my other sisters to fill them in and sucked in my pain to be there for them. Being able to hear their hearts break over the phone as their voices shook and their weeping took over the quiet atmosphere of my car. The pity-filled smiles as we entered the hospital helped the realization that this was real. The coroner was already there, discussing with Mark’s family about the next steps. I walked into the room and my mother embraced me with a huge hug. The tears didn’t stop.

They moved us to a quieter space in the hallway as we waited for Mark’s children to come to the hospital. The atmosphere was peaceful. Mark wouldn’t want it any other way. We all sat for hours and laughed about all of the good times that we had had with Mark. We shared stories and remembered what a great man we were all blessed to have in our lives.

I think that is all we needed in that moment. Mark didn’t want anything fancy. He wouldn’t want us to grieve. He would only want the room to be filled with music and laughter, so that’s what we did. That’s how I healed. I laugh as much as I can and always remember how important he was in my life. We never want to lose our parents, especially so suddenly, but being blessed with the time I did have is all I needed to realize some people can be good people. So while I do remember this day and week of my life every day, it’s a good memory because it’s Mark. Mark was genuine, kind, happy, loving, gentle, and supportive. He was a good person and you can’t come by many of those anymore.

*I hope this encourages you to seek joy through loss*

I am seeing death everywhere. Friends of mine everywhere are losing people close to them and this truly pains me to watch. You are dealing with the stomach knots when you remember that they are actually gone. You are facing the tear-stained face when you try to call them and realize they cannot pick up. We never think we will lose those close to us, so when it happens, especially suddenly, it's hard to keep moving on every day. How are we to exist without the ones we love? The thing is: you just do. You keep on breathing. You keep on living. You keep on fighting.

We all deal with death differently, so do what you need. Exercise, read, watch a movie, hang out with friends and family, craft. Whatever you may need, do it. Take the time for you and let people take care of you.

I urge you to live a life that you think they would want you to live. Strive to have the characteristics that that person had that you absolutely loved about them; this could be their kind heart, their honestly, their love for people.

http://www.griefshare.org/