Mrs. Brown
My best friend Randy’s mom died of cancer this week. And as you know, when you’re in someone’s home as a 16-year-old, your friend’s mom becomes your mom. I can hear her voice and see Randy and I running into the kitchen after pizza. It has been a sad week.
Mrs. Brown (her name is Sara but I never could quite allow myself to call her that) was quiet and solid. She was an attractive lady who quietly raised her three kids and held a chaotic life together. Her ability to create normalcy during chaos personifies glue to me. Life throws you challenges. But those challenges don’t define you. It’s how you face them that does. And by using that as a benchmark, she lived an amazing life.
I read her obituary last night (click here to read it) and was amazed at her professional accomplishments. I’ve always just known her as my best friend’s mom. But she was more than that. But I think the true testament to her life is the family standing around her when she died. My best friend described a man was dying of some type of oral cancer in the hospice room across the hall. The dying man’s brother briefly visited him (and talked on the cell phone when he did.) But then the phone-talking brother left. And the sick man died in his recliner alone.
Mrs. Brown wasn’t alone. She was surrounded by people who loved her.
My best friend Randy is the finest man I know. I see a lot of her in him — he’s smart, loyal, hardworking and doesn’t complain (for the most part) when facing a crisis. And his brother and sister are equally exceptional people.
In this world of celebrity worship, I think we lose sight of what true success means. Sara Brown was a true success. And the incredible family she raised is living proof of it.
*siiiggghhh* Marshall, my very best friend that has worked with me for 20 years at this place is losing her battle to cancer. Thanks for these encouraging words.