This is a hard post to write.  Any post about death is hard, but since most of my family has died, it’s pretty hard for me to write about another one.

My first cousin Cathy passed away in the night, after-effects of a hip replacement surgery she had last week. 

Cathy and her husband Loren raised my older brother Mike.  He was with them, helping Loren’s dad move, just hours before Mike died of a brain aneurysm in 1997.  They were his family, and their daughters were special to him.

Did I mention that Cathy named her CAT after me?  And that cat lived a long and happy life, even though it had my name.  I’ve had a niece named after me, but not a cat before!

Cathy has been working on me for over a year, trying to pull me into the family loop.  I’ve been resistant, to say the least, and if you knew about my family’s history, you’d probably understand why.  Although Cathy said I was her favorite when I was little, her dad hated me because I looked like my mother – so, I became the “throw-away” child when our dad died and our mom abandoned us.  No one wanted me.  That left a very long life of bitterness on my end, as I traveled from one foster home to another … knowing that I wasn’t wanted by my own family.  Well, I wasn’t wanted by my dad’s side of the family.  Luckily, my uncle on my mom’s side took me in and finished raising me.  Grateful doesn’t begin to explain how I feel about them, but they took a chance and I think I turned out ok – and I give them all the credit for that.

Because God is my Father and Jesus is my Savior – I know that Cathy is on her way to everlasting life, and she believed the same.  I know she’s exactly where she should be, according to His plan – and hopefully she’s giving my brother a big ole’ heavenly hug right now for the both of us.  But, I also know that her mother, husband, daughters, grandchildren, nieces, etc. are suffering from their loss.  I hope it’s acceptable for me to join that group, without offending anyone, and say that I’m suffering a bit, too. 

Before Christmas, Cathy sent me family photos from days gone by.  Lots of photos of my dad’s side of the family, as well as a number of my brothers as they were growing up.  She took hours going through photos and copying them for me, because she knew that I had little or nothing by way of tangible memories of our family. 

She cared about me, even though it took me many years to accept that.  I’m a tough bird to crack, but she was slowly peeling away the layers of my bitterness to show me that even if I felt I wasn’t part of that side of the family, she believed I was.  At least part of her family.  And I was starting to believe that. 

Now, I can only try to find joy in the knowledge that God has plans for her in heaven, better plans than what she thought He had planned for her to do on earth. 

Cathy – thank you for trying to help me find good in people that I always saw as bad.  Thank you for trying to help me see that I had a place in the family, even if I resisted.  Thank you for sharing yourself with me.  And thank you for loving me.  God’s Peace to you as you make your way Home.