Still, Soft Echoes

I'm still up.  It's 2:30 am and I'm struck with a thought.  So I decide if I'm going to let the thought go, or move, get my notebook or computer out and do something about it.

You obviously know which decision I made.

There are echoes that surround us.  Still, Soft Echoes of those we can no longer touch or physically feel.  But they stay with us.  Not haunting, but reminders and whispers of their voice, their compassion, drive, awareness of who WE are.  They don't leave us.

They know who we are as much as we know.  And our memories and reflections of them don't fade.  They remain a part of our lives.

My grandmother left us in 1986.  My freshman year of high school.  I spent the summer before helping to take care of her.  What I didn't realize as a teen was that I was in fact helping make her last days easier.  I don't remember her voice, but I remember her presence throughout all of the major events of my life up to then.  I miss her.  I knew she loved me.  She always kept butter cookies in a tupperware container in the kitchen, and she was never afraid to reprimand me when I needed correction.

My cousin Eric left us in 1997.  I still have memories of this kid who was becoming a man.  I was there when over 100 students from McKeachern High School filled the lobby of Kennestone Hospital in a vigil for his young life.  He left such a mark on those students.  He still comes to mind whenever I think about taking a break on this journey.  Whenever I think of giving up, his presence reminds me that I never know how long I'm going to have.  Don't waste it.

Allen Martin left in 2007.  He was my Granddad, my roommate in college (yes, really!), my friend and mentor and a Father.  Just like my Grandmother, he was such a part of my life.  And when I was leaving home to go to West Georgia, he gave me a place I truly called home.  He told me on my first day there "I don't keep up with you, and you don't keep up with me".  I thought it was funny, but he meant it.  He gave me space, but he also listened out.  Never butting in unless he absolutely had to.  I loved the man with all his quirks and antics, and I always knew he loved me.

And I'm sure you have yours as well.  That person who...

...knew how to urge you to go on.

...knew exactly what to say when you needed encouragement.

...showed you they loved you without any pretense.

...let you cry.  knowing that tears really do heal.

...always wanted the best for you.  Even when you didn't want it for yourself.

...who was your greatest advocate, champion, friend when you were down.

They still reside with us.  The echoes aren't fading.

They continue to resonate within us.