I just found out my aunt died sometime between Saturday night and this morning.
She didn’t call-in to work to say she’d be out, so one of her coworkers checked on her – and she didn’t answer the phone, so my dad, her older brother, went to her apartment to find out what was wrong. He found her lying on the floor not breathing.
All I know right now is that this wasn’t supposed to happen.
55-year-old people are not supposed to die.
Only old people are supposed to be allowed to die. Three score and ten. That’s 70. Not 55. Just a few weeks ago, my great-grandmother passed-on, but she was 98. In 2005, both a great uncle and great aunt passed away, but they were old, too.
55 is just not old enough.
She was supposed to be at work today.
She had just finished her first full week back after having been out ill for a couple weeks. It was her first full week at work since February.
She was supposed to finish her career at Albany County Social Services and retire in 10 years.
She was supposed to be moving nearer to my parents in the next few months.
She was supposed to see my younger sister, her only niece, start and finish college.
She was supposed to meet whoever I end up marrying, and be at the wedding.
She was supposed to see MY kids grow up and get a chance to know her.
She was supposed to come to trivia at Uno’s with us some Sunday nights.
She was supposed to see my sister get married.
But most of all: she was just supposed to be alive.
I talked to her Saturday on my drive from North Carolina to New York, and didn’t tell her I was coming up because I wanted to surprise her. I was in Albany on Sunday, and was the one who told my parents that we didn’t have room in my truck to pick up her dehumidifier that she was going to lend us after their water heater broke and flooded the basement. So, I was the one who bailed on surprising her yesterday – after having planned to do so the whole ride north.
That means my last memory of her is of saying, “I know you need to hit the sack so you can go to breakfast in the morning” and her responding with a “good night, Mike”. I didn’t call her yesterday morning because a) I knew she was supposed to be at breakfast, and b) she’d have been curious as to why I wasn’t at church, to which I didn’t want to have to lie, or give away the surprise.
Not two years ago she had a heart attack, and bypass surgery. She was back to work just a couple months later last year after physical therapy. I told her then that she had expended her “emergencies” and wasn’t allowed to do anything like that again. And she didn’t – she went to work as much as she could. She was out of work for a couple weeks a couple months ago when she was diagnosed with fibromyalgia – which is treatable, and she was on a medication track to keep her healthy.
This upcoming weekend, after my friends’ Evan and Christy get married, I was supposed to be driving back to Albany, and we were all (mom, dad, sister, aunt, and I) planning to have dinner. We were supposed to be celebrating her going back to work at our favorite restaurant.
We were supposed to do lots of stuff.
We were supposed to have lots of time.
Now everything that I had to say can’t be.
Everything that should have been done won’t be.
Now I’m sitting by myself. In a hotel room. In Nutley New Jersey.
Trying to figure out what it is that I wished I’d done, said, acted upon… and now never can.
Saying “I miss you” or “I love you” is too trite. And she’s not here to hear it. So whatever it is that needed to be said, and done, and acted upon now can only be written.
“Tell me I have led a good life.”
It’s too late to tell you.
It’s too late for you to hear.
But as long as I’m here:
It’s not too late for me to tell the world: “You did”.
In eternal, loving memory: Cindy Lee Myers. 1953-2008.
I’m sorry about your aunt. You’re in my prayers.
Cindy Lee Myers, my beloved friend, loved you so much and was so proud of you. We would talk only several times a year, but we shared our faith and our families. She inspired me and challenged me and will continue to do so.
I’m so sorry for your loss. 🙁
Warren,
I’m so very sorry for the loss of your aunt. She must have been a very special person. She also must have loved you very much to have had such a good relationship with you. Those are precious, priceless memories for you to cherish. One day you will see her again, and you’ll never have to say good-bye, ever!
We will be praying. Since you’re away so much, send us updates when you can so we can keep up with you, OK?
Sherry
thanks for all your comments.. I’ll be posting some more details about the funeral etc when I know
calling hours will be from 1600-1900 @ rockefeller funeral home in rennselaer thursday
the funeral will be at albany baptist church @ 1100 friday
My condolences to you and your family. You’ll all be in my prayers. If there’s anything you need don’t hesitate to call!
Warren, I am sorry to hear of your aunt’s sudden passing. I pray that God will give you His peace which passes all understanding.
Jack
Warren,
Words can’t express how much your Aunt Cindy has meant to us. She’s been our most faithful prayer partner, encourager, and inspiration in ministry for (has it really been) 26 years. She is a dear sister in Christ with whom we talked for hours every few days or weeks, sharing our mutual love for God’s Word, and our longing to see Jesus face to face in heaven someday. Only, we didn’t expect she would be there so soon–too soon! Through our tears, we smile knowing she’s free of all the pain she suffered…free to hug, laugh, sing, worship, read, teach, and encourage all those loved ones she’s been missing down here!
Thanks for what you wrote, Warren. We appreciate you. And we’re praying that God will comfort you and your family.
Warren,
Your written memories are beautiful. It’s hard not to focus on what you didn’t say, but I know that Cindy knew how much you loved her. It doesn’t have to be said in words.
It’s never easy to say goodbye… I have never been good at it, and like you, I wish I had said more when I spoke to my Grandma Toots last. But sometimes I talk to Jesus, and ask Him to give Grandma a hug for me and tell her how much I love her and miss her. Maybe it’s cheesy, but I know He cares, and I think He does tell her.
If there’s anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to call. You’re all in my thoughts and prayers.
Cindy, my soul-sister in Christ and dear friend. Our loss is your gain I know, but your passing leaves a hole in the fabric of my life for which there is no matching patch.
Gerry
Mike, I don’t know you, but I knew your aunt, and one thing I know for sure is that she loved her family. She talked about you, and it was clear that she thought the world of you. I met Cindy at Peniel, and in recent years we’ve been in touch sporadically. Though we didn’t keep in contact well, I knew she was there. We started a yahoo discussion group together, and then she got sick and unable to participate. We did a book study together via e-mail, and I loved her deep theological insights. I think what I will miss most is the humor–she was one witty lady. She liked Mark Twain, and quoted him frequently–but she really didn’t need his help to be funny–she had a unique take on life and a way with words that made you either laugh or think–or both.
But of course you know that.
When Cindy met my husband several years ago, they connected as though they’d known each other for years. I think it was something about the humor–they’ve both got a big dose of it, though different brands. I was glad that they got along so well.
I remember talking to Cindy 2 or 3 years ago, and she told me that to motivate herself to walk, she’d bought herself a interesting variety of dice, and used them as rewards for exercising. (She motivated herself to walk by creating an imaginary dog–why not? Dogs go stir crazy if they don’t get their exercise.) I bought her some Maine-themed dice with moose and lobsters on them,
But I never got them to her.
So the dice are here in Maine with me, and Cindy’s in heaven with the Lord–I know she’s got the better deal. But I sure am going to miss her.
Mike, I am very, very, sorry for your loss. Your aunt was an awesome person, a good friend of mine for more than 20 years. She loved you a lot and talked about you and your sister all the time. I was with her for breakfast Sunday morning and she was incredibly happy. Please know that she’s in a better place right now. I am so sorry for you and your family’s grief. Maybe we will talk.
Warren,
Thank you for sharing your thoughts about Cindy. I know in my heart that God is sovereign and good, but I am all too aware that even that truth is not going to take away the pain or the regrets. When Lazarus died, even Jesus diodn’t have anything to say. He just cried for his friends. So just know that we are here for you and that you have lots of friends.
Nate