Life is life. Live it.

I just got back today from 4 days in LA for my aunt's funeral. I'm exhausted. Physically, mentally, spiritually, emotionally. The service itself was tough to get through. Playing piano while my sister sang In My Life (with all of 2 minutes practice time) was tough. Watching my uncle and niece grieve together was almost unbearable. Watching my mom and grandma grieve was as well. Seeing the casket for the first time was almost too much.

But then, realizing that my aunt, despite her suffering and her much too young departure from us (she was 51), lived her life without complaint and with the most amazing sense of optimism, altruism, generosity and joy, was a huge comfort. Meeting and hearing stories from Margaret's childhood friends, distant relatives and family friends, and realizing that they, too, were touched by her amazing spirit, her sharp wit and her love of a good-natured practical joke. Seeing pictures that others had gathered at her celebration party was a great reminder of how many people she had touched. I also got up and spoke at the reception, just to share a few stories about the kind of person Gosia (her Polish name and what I and all my siblings called her) was, and though it was a lot more difficult than I anticipated, it helped bring a sense of peace to me at least.

Just to give you an idea (and because I just feel the need to talk about her), here are a couple stories that might give you a hint to the kind of person she was:

On my uncle's 40th birthday party, Gosia arranged a surprise party for him, but led him to believe they were going out to a nice restaurant for dinner. On the way, she asked him to stop by the store and pick up some feminine hygiene products for her. His answer was "you've GOT to be kidding me," but, of course, he stopped anyway. When he got inside he found all his friends waiting for him... in the feminine hygiene aisle.

3 years ago, I had booked a flight down to LA for Christmas with my grandma, aunt and uncle and my mom. I was flying in on the 23rd. I boarded the plane, and we sat on the tarmac for an hour and a half. First it was a minor glitch that would take 1/2 an hour. Then it was waiting for a part. Then the flight was cancelled due to aircraft issues. I stood in line for 2 hours before I could get to the counter for the agent to tell me there were no other flights available from that airline, and that they couldn't search other airlines for me.

I called my mom (who was at my aunt's house) and told her the bad news, and told her that I'd check flights once I got home. I did, but couldn't find anything that wouldn't cost waaay too much to get me there. So I pretty much resigned myself to spending Christmas alone since I had to work on the 26th. I woke up the next morning, and my aunt called soon after. They spent all night searching for tickets, and found a flight from San Jose leaving in a few hours, that would get me back home Christmas night. I asked her if I could repay her, but she of course wouldn't have it. "We're family, and you need to be with family for Christmas. We'll see you soon!"

So Gosia and Jim (my uncle) picked me up from the airport in LA and we began the drive to my grandma's (my mom was already there). A little way into the drive, Gosia calls my mom, and with that mischievous smile on her face but a completely serious voice says "now, don't get upset, but... Adam couldn't make the flight in time." I could hear my my mom yelling "WHAT?!?!?" through the cell phone, even though I had talked to her right before boarding the plane. It took about 2 minutes (in between fits of laughter in our car) before we could calm down mom enough to tell her the truth.

Gosia was also fond of leaving her own little sayings as inscriptions in books she gave to us as gifts. Here's one that one of her best friends shared with all of us at her celebration:

"Life is not a bowl of cherries. A bowl of cherries is a bowl of cherries. Life is life. Accept it, and then live it."

And she did. I love you, Gosia. You were amazing, and we were all lucky to have you in our lives. You will be deeply, deeply missed and fondly remembered.