Still Sad

Although we have Zeus we still miss Louie beyond words and everyone in the family still has grief waves from time to time. A matter of fact, Athena was outside in the backyard yesterday trying to make a boat so she could go find Louie. She sat on top of Louie's grave for hours. She finds comfort there. Athena is only four but it sounded like a ritual from ancient Egypt. Athena's grief waves are the hardest because I think she is doing well and then she reminds me that she still in mourning. The other day she was walking through the butter cups calling to Louie to wake up. The whole experience has taught us so much about, life, death and love.

A Letter to Louie

Dear Louie,

When someone leaves your life it is always the little things you miss the most. These little things seem so big after someone passes away. I want you to know that you meant so much to everyone in the Cochrane Family from the youngest member to the oldest. So I compiled a list of all the sweet things that made you special. Most of all, I remember your beautiful blond eye lashes that would have been the envy of any movie star; your soft kind chocolate eyes. Then there was your wagging. When you wagged your tail, your whole body seemed to wag almost like a Chinese parade dog. Also, you used to moan when my husband Scott rubbed your ears—and it would send us “All” into stitches of laughter. Several times a day you would playfully mouth my arm or toss my hand on top of your head for forced petting. It was too cute! I miss how you leaned up against me. You always craved affection as much as you craved food. You loved to carry around a small stuffed animal in your mouth—especially if the kids left them on the floor. I miss everything about you. I even miss your wet pink nose that turned black around the edges, your sweet face and the smell of your fur. You used to roll in the mud after every bath and thought you smelled as good as Channel #5. Pew!

You were never too far away especially early in the morning or late at night. You always kept vigil over me no matter if it was 11:30 PM or 4 AM in the morning. You were always there when I sat on the couch or right outside the kitchen door waiting to be called on. The thing that I remember the most about you Louie was how you would put your wet slimy nose in my hands when I was meditating. I tried never to crack a smile but I was always smiling on the inside. I miss how you were my dog. I would hold on to your neck and burry my face in your fur. You always gave me strength to face a day with my rambunctious children. I truly never new how happy you made my days.

When we first got you, you went through an episode of peeing on our carpets but we got through all that—and life was good. In truth, your house manors were so very good by dog standards. You “came” when “called” which is more then I can say for my kids. You used to lie still when I brushed your fur and even used to change sides. You never growled at us—ever! Not even when things hurt. You never jumped on anyone. You welcomed everyone at the door--and still we could dismiss you with a single word and you would go without a fuss. You were such an agreeable dog.

Most of all I loved how you made me feel safe in my own house—especially at night when Scott was working nights. In the words of Alex—“You were brave.” Your size was imposing but you were our gentle giant. Even my 4 year old daughter could lead you around on the leash—and you loved it.

Everyone loved you. All our children friends loved you— people would come over to the house just to see you. Even the grown-ups loved you but you lived for the kids. It took so little to make you happy. A few snow balls and children to play with. You genuinely loved all the children with all of your heart. You were always with them when they were downstairs. You watched over them as if they were your cubs.

Louie, you were the calming influence in our lives; you were such a love; you were our mascot; our friend; you were our Louie.

With Love always,
The Cochrane Family

My Memories of Ada

I ask for prayers. Our family is in mourning. Grandma Ada (my husband's paternal Grandmother) passed away last night at 1:30 AM peacefully at the age of 90. She was such a moving force in our lives and in the Cochrane Family at large. She was our matriarch. To us, Grandma Ada’s passing is the passing of an era. Grandma Ada was born in Italy in 1920 but you would never know it because her English was impeccable. She attended the World’s Fair in NY in 1939 where she met Scott's Grandfather Bill Cochrane. She always said she fell in love with his blue eyes there. Ada lived through World War II as a single mom in a NY apartment while Bill was off at war. I still marvel that she was able to do this and keep her sanity but she had tremendous fortitude and was one of those people who made things happen not excuses. Despite all this, Ada was the most well read women that I have ever met. In fact, she was the only person I knew that did the NY Times cross word puzzle in ink. She loved learning and often tutored other people into her senior years. She was also committed to passing on her love of learning and intellectual curiosity to her grandchildren and great grandchildren. Ada had passion for a great many things in her life. She loved the local library, doing cross word puzzles, bike riding, the Opera, NY City, and visiting Europe. She lived a full and active life filled with friends and family.

Despite all of these things, what I will remember most about Ada is her love of intellectual conversation over the dinner table. It was her forum. She often pontificated about her Democratic political views over salad, bread, wine, and her famous blueberry crisp. When Scott and I were dating we went to her house at least once a week for dinner. It was the best marriage counseling anyone could ever get and it was free. Eating meals with Ada and Bill made our marriage strong. Ada had a strong personality. She never had a problem telling you what she thought or where you stood in her life. In fact, there was a time Ada didn't like me very much. However, over time her opinion of me changed and when we began to exchange letters. Ada was an amazing woman. Rarely do we have the opportunity to meet someone so cultured in our life that is related to us. Scott and I always joked that if we were playing Trivia, Ada would be our lifeline.

I am honored that Ada was in my life and grateful to her for making Scott into the man he is today. Ada Raviglione Cochrane will be missed by our family in Maryland and by so many others. Her life will continue to be a ripple in the water that touches us deeply. As for me, I will continue to look longingly at the mailbox wishing for just one last letter from her.

Team Terry is made up of 5 Mom's that are doing the Iron Girl Triathalon this Sunday, Aug 23rd. One of the Ladies in our group wrote these words to define why we are participating in the race. I thought her words were so poignant that I wanted to post her thoughts.

Team Terry had the humblest of beginnings. The idea of participating in the Columbia Iron Girl arose over a conversation between several mothers talking in a group after dropping their kids off at preschool. A couple of us were turning the big 4-0 and wanted to do something to commemorate the year. What better way to prove your youth than to participate in your first ever triathlon! Eventually, several other mothers also considered it for various reasons and soon, one by one, each of us would show up at school and say “its official, I registered.” So even though turning 40, or being a strong Mom, might be enough of a reason to want to be an Iron Girl, it’s actually just the beginning of this story.

One particular mom in our group was debating her decision to register for the Triathlon. Her name was Terry Hendrix. While she, like the rest of us, wanted to do something out of the ordinary for herself, she had concerns that originated from living with serious complications of Crohn’s disease which might preclude her from training appropriately. She thought on one hand it would be a great way to get in shape and lose a little weight, but on the other hand she was living with complications from Crohn’s disease which might preclude her from training appropriately. She never got the opportunity to think about the decision any further though, because less than two weeks from our original group discussion our friend suffered a seizure and was diagnosed with a rare and very aggressive brain cancer that had spread to her spine. While the rest of us prepared for the race she was in a battle for her life.

Our group, comprised of 5 preschool moms from Crofton Maryland, decided that we would run the race for her. It was our morale booster. We battled the sore, stiff, and pulled muscles while she battled the cancer with chemotherapy and other available treatments. Despite the complications along the way all of us truly believed that Terry would be here to see each of us finish the race. She was the strongest woman that any of us have ever known (emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually) and if anyone could win life’s ultimate battle, Terry could. Unfortunately Terry passed away this Fourth of July at the age of 42 leaving behind a loving husband and 5 year old son.

The five of us have banded together to compete in the Iron Girl and to commemorate the life of Terry Hendrix by swimming, biking and running in her honor. Everyone on Team Terry got involved with the triathlon for different personal reasons; however the death of our dear friend has made this event something bigger than us. It is our intent to take Terry’s memory to the end of the course on race day. We will be racing in shirts that will say Team Terry on the front and her favorite quote on the back: “Love Life and Never Look Back.”

The five Crofton mothers that comprise Team Terry and will be participating in the Iron Girl race in Terry Hendrix’s memory are: Laurel Landry, Jena Cochrane, Cindy Wood, Karen Kuhn, Sarah White, and Carol Streeter. Look for the purple shirts (designed for us by Nightmare Graphics).

The Great Sadness

If there is one thing to be said about me it is that I am a Pollyanna at heart. I am constantly looking at the world through rose colored glasses—sometimes ad nauseam. Nevertheless, even Pollyanna gets depressed. The last several weeks have been a time of “great sadness” as William P. Young coins the term in his book The Shack. Lately, the sadness has been coming in great waves. They wash over me from time to time throughout the day and make me very sleepy and melancholy. My sadness is due to dealing with the death of 5 people in the last 4 months. Three of the people lived to old age—2 did not. These 2 deaths have rocked me to my core.

Ironically it is not dealing with death that has me so sad. It was the sheer senselessness of these 2 deaths that insulted my sensibilities. People are not supposes to die young. The one person who died was in her early 40’s. Within 24 hours another friend of mine was crushed by a miscarriage. She lost a baby that she was overjoyed about the week before. I was struck by the randomness of the world and its arbitrary nature. Neither person deserved their fate. There was no divine justice at work in either of these situations and no way to explain the events besides ‘bad things happen’. The last time that I felt this sad is when I had to deal with the death of a young child. Events like these bring up all sorts of questions. Isn’t there a God? Why does this happen? Why can’t God wipe away this type of suffering?

I understand that a lot of suffering in the world happens because we as humans make bad decisions and thus the bad things can be explained. However, these deaths are totally arbitrary. This is Nature at work—and these events are as chaotic to the brain as the random effects of a tidal wave or a hurricane are to the sea shore. I am furious at God! Can this really be his will? In an attempt to feel better I think about Rabbi Kushner’s book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People. His words bring me a sense of peace where I have not found much:

Life is not fair. The wrong people get sick and the wrong people get robbed
and the wrong people get killed in wars and in accidents. Some people see
life’s unfairness and decide, “There is no God; the world is nothing but chaos.”
Others see the same unfairness and ask themselves, “Where do I get my sense of
what is fair and what is unfair? Where do I get my sense of outrage and
indignation, my instinctive response of sympathy when I read in the paper about
a total stranger who has been hurt by life? Don’t I get these things from
God? Doesn’t He plant in me a little bit if his own divine outrage at
injustice and oppression, just as he did for the prophets of the Bible? Isn’t my
feeling of compassion for the afflicted just a reflection of the compassion he
feels when he sees the suffering of his creatures?” …No one ever promised us a
life free from pain and disappointment. The most anyone promised us [is]
that we would not be alone in our pain, and that we would be able to draw upon a
source outside ourselves for the strength and courage we would need to survive
life's tragedies and life's unfairness.

In essence it is our connection to others that makes the random tragedies in life tolerable. Although the answer to why bad things happen is illusive [and a question that scholars will argue about for another thousand years] I am comforted by our resiliency as human beings to overcome the unimaginable. This resiliency is found inside of me, and is strengthened by my connection to others in my life. In the simplest terms, life is about the comfort that we give and receive. In essence this is the divine grace of God. It is our resiliency, the comfort of others, and the hope of a new day that will carry my heart through “the great sadness” when life does not make sense.

Terry’s Independence Day

The 4th of July means a great deal to our country and has been steeped in majesty ever since 1776. It marks the official day that the Declaration of Independence was signed. The day is the anniversary of our founding fathers taking control of their destiny. Signing that document was a courageous act. It was a death sentence to every man who signed. But each of them made that heroic choice. They made the choice to make their stand; a choice to make things better for themselves, and for those who would come after them. The day is so special that not only do Americans celebrate our country hood, but we commemorate some of our founders who mysteriously died on that day. John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and James Monroe all passed away on the 4th of July. So when Terry Hendrix chose to pass away on the 233rd anniversary of the signing of Declaration of Independence she was following in the footsteps of greatness; many of those who new Terry have deemed the 4th of July “Terry’s Independence Day.” Like our founding fathers, Terry was feisty and fiercely independent and went out of the world in the manor in which she lived—on her own terms. Terry will not live on in the history books like all these great men but she will live on in the hearts and minds of those who came to love her and will never forget her. She was courageous in the face of cancer.

However what made Terry so remarkable was not the cancer, it was something bigger. She inspired the very best in everyone she met and lived each day to the fullest. Terry loved life and had a way of forgiving others when they did not live up to her expectations. I remember one such occasion when I did not show up to pick strawberries with her and she took it all in stride saying it was not meant to be. Terry had a way of looking beyond a person’s shortcomings and seeing who really was inside. It is those eyes that I often looked to when she was deep in the recesses of cancer because no matter how overwhelming the cancer was, Terry’s spirit never had cancer. You could see her soul fire burning within her even at the bitterest of times. Interesting enough, Terry did not ask why bad things happened to her—she merely asked why not her. Although the cancer would take Terry’s life at the end, it would not take her happiness. In a courageous act of heroism Terry wrote in lipstick on her mirror that she was healthy. And indeed she was; because she never let the cancer in. Cancer never corroded the beautiful person that lived within her body. Now she claims that independence every day as she floats through time and space “on the wings of Angels.” As you can tell, Terry was very special. Although I only new Terry Hendrix for a little over a year, I fell in love with her as so many people did. You simply couldn’t help it. All of those who knew her will bitterly weep for the 42 year old wife and mother who left the world a little too soon, but we are all better off for knowing her even for a brief moment. In our sadness, let us never forget that the ones that we leave behind today will always be carried to greatness in our hearts as we continue upon life’s journey. In each act of kindness that we do the Terry’s of the world will be shining through their independence from the bad things that sometimes can weigh so heavily on our hearts.

Saying Good-Bye

Two week ago I went to a funeral for Arthur Burton. Unfortunately, I know very little about him. Until I went to the funeral, on April 29th, I had no idea that he had been in the Marines or held a government job. So why did I go to say good-bye to him on a rainy Wednesday? Because he touched my life. I was particularly struck by how a person (like Arthur) that I hardly knew could affect me so deeply. What I did know was that Arthur was a great man and that he had tremendous presence of spirit. He worked at Sports Fit, a local gym that I attend in the Bowie Area. In this setting he acted as an unofficial ambassador of goodwill. Seeing Arthur in the morning was like seeing the morning sun. He was always smiling and greeting people. He had a knack of looking into someone’s eyes and making them feel special. Just his smile would light up the hallway. Although Arthur was most known for shaking hands with his tennis racket at Sports Fit, I knew him for shaking hands with people. I met Arthur when I was pregnant with my 3rd child. He used to call me Mamma. I ran on the treadmill until my 9th month and even played tennis. This amused Arthur. He was always around to give me a high five, a thumbs-up or a kind word of encouragement. These little tokens of common decency meant the world to me. You never think that simply saying hello and being genuinely happy to see people can be so powerful in someone’s life, but it was for me. Arthur’s kind words kept me going. It was like getting a dose of adrenalin everyday. Sometimes, his thumbs-up gave me the strength to run an extra mile. Even though I only conversed with Arthur for about 60 seconds a day, I learned so much from him and the way that he lived his life. Arthur taught me that simple kindness and a radiating energy can change the world. If we could all emulate Arthurs approach to life there truly would be world peace. May we all touch each others lives in the way that Arthur touched mine.