|Maria John 1965 - 2017|
She struggled with alcoholism for years, and lost the battle a week ago.
Alcoholism is a cruel disease. It kills slowly and eats away at the mind while it tilts the body's systems beyond repair.
She was beautiful, intelligent and generous, and loved her children more than anything else in the world. But her disease destroyed her censors and brought out her dark side and drove her to actions and words she deeply regretted when she was sober.
Her disease took away her home and her laughter. It drove her to lose daily contact with her children. It stole her joy, her bright wit, and at the end, it took her beauty.
I'm not used to feeling so much anger swirling around someone's death. But as my sister-in-law said this morning, anger stems from a sense of injustice - and there was so much that was unjust around her last years. I can feel the anger, hot in my belly - but I loved her anyways - and we all did.
And, Grace Is.
This morning, all of my family who were able to be there gathered to empty Maria's apartment of the boxes we'd packed over the past few days. Her daughter was delayed, and stepped from her car to find herself surrounded by people who loved her and who had come to help. The scene was far from one she'd envisioned - the one where she labored alone to carry the boxes down the long unsteady straight flight of twenty stairs because the family still wouldn't come. She took one look around at the crowd and her eyes filled with tears - tears she couldn't wouldn't allow to fall. It took a little less than an hour for the eighteen of us to empty the three rooms of all their contents, Juliann's eyes bright with unshed tears the whole time. Her eyes reflected the tears hiding behind my own.
Tears of sadness, tears of forgiveness. Tears of love, tears of regret.
Her disease built walls between Maria and her family. This morning, some of those walls took a serious battering. It's hard to hold righteous anger in your heart when you are surrounded by love.
Maria's funeral is scheduled for March 10th. She didn't want her farewell to this world to happen in the cold and dark days of February. In this, I agree with her. Easier to say this final goodbye with the promise of new life and new beginnings in the air.
Sleep in peace, Maria. May your soul and your body finally be at rest.
And, yes, as I promised, I will do all I can to be there for your children.
I love you...