Suzie left this world yesterday, and this world’s a darker place for it.
“Suzie”, of course, isn’t her real name. I don’t think I should share that, because this story is too real. And her family deserves anonymity to go with their time of grief.
Suzie was born with a host of medical issues, along with certain learning disabilities. She was medflighted to a distant hospital the moment she was born. Over her 20+ years, she probably spent more time in hospitals than anywhere else. She spent most of her years in a wheelchair, never able to run and play with the other kids in school. Her parents did they best they could for her, even after their divorce.
Suzie, however, never seemed to mind how different she was. She was a generally happy child, and brightened any room she came into with her sweet little smile. Was she a little spoiled? Yes, of course she was. But sometimes, you just couldn’t help yourself. And it wasn’t because you pitied her. It was because she was just that sweet.
I knew Suzie because she was my niece, by marriage. Of course, that ended over 4 years ago, with my divorce. I hadn’t been able to see Suzie since then. But my daughters would occasionally give me the low down on all my former in-laws, including Suzie.
Suzie had spent an inordinate amount of time in various hospitals over the last six months. And last weekend, she had to be admitted to the ICU of a local facility. She was placed on a ventilator on the Friday before Thanksgiving. The doctors had no clue what was causing this downturn, and had no idea on how to combat it.
On Tuesday, my oldest daughter gave me a call. Suzie could only be on the ventilator for a maximum of two weeks. Things looked bleak. I even broke down and called my ex. It was the first civil conversation we’d had in 3 years. Sometimes, you just have to lay crap down.
Wednesday evening, my daughter called to tell me the family had decided to take Suzie off the ventilator. All day on Thanksgiving, I kept glacing at my phone, waiting to get a text. Friday morning, that text came. “Call me” was what my daughter had sent, but I already knew in my heart what the call was for. At around 11 that morning, Suzie had left this world.
My daughter posted the sweetest message on Facebook. She said that Suzie was in Heaven, and had her new legs, and was running around and playing to her heart’s content.
No jokes today. No aardvark humor. Suzie is better off now than she was in this world, and the world is just a little darker because she isn’t here. And that’s my point.
We’re still in this world. As dark as it can be sometimes, it’s still our home. So let’s make the best of it.
If you have a grudge against someone, let it go. If you’ve hurt someone, go make it right.
If you think someone is lonely, reach out to them. If you’re in pain, reach out to someone.
Don’t take relationships for granted. In the last two years, I’ve had to watch 3 different families bury a child. We are guaranteed nothing in this life.
This world is missing a light since Suzie left. Be a light for someone today. You won’t ever regret it.
The Naked Aardvark 