MAHONEY’S MOMENTS

December 2024: LOVE AND REMEMBRANCE

My final blog of the year usually includes highlights from things I’ve read or learned somewhere this year. This one is going to be different because I’m going to write about the worst day in my life nearly twenty-five years ago. I’ve given 100’s of presentations and speeches since that day and I’ve never mentioned it. An event last month brought it all rushing back.

At the end of her sophomore year just before school was out, we lost Susan, our 16-year-old daughter who battled anorexia. The loss was totally unexpected, shocking, and life altering. Most of us have had profound losses of family members or dear friends. Here today. Gone tomorrow. We are left to cope with unimaginable grief, and everything becomes am…before the loss and pm...after the loss. In a perverse sort of way, our numbness and grief are simply proportionate to our love. It hurts so much because you loved so much.

The mind and body won’t allow you to suffer continuous overwhelming grief. The intensity of your pain wears down with time, but the loss of course is never diminished. Everyone else moves on but you don’t. You put a mask on, smile, and pretend that things are okay. They aren’t. You find outlets. Mine was in work and the anonymity of others who have suffered in group sessions of Compassionate Friends.

What brought all this crashing back? Shortly after Susan’s death we created senior writing prizes to honor her budding talent. Prizes were awarded annually to the best written pieces from area high school students where I was once superintendent. Through the volunteer efforts of English teachers who served as judges, coordinators who communicated the competition and monetary prizes, and countless students who submitted poems, short stories, and other forms of writing narratives, this recognition has now gone on for over two decades.

It culminated last month in the book launch of “The Susan Awards”—an anthology of the best of the best writing from nearly 70 senior students over twenty years. Retired English teachers gathered, former winners read parts of their pieces, and everyone who had contributed to this effort over these many years were invited. College students from Muskingum University led by Professor Barb Hansen were present after spending a year getting the book ready for publication. All were thanked and given a first book. Susan’s former teachers talked about her and for the first time, Susan’s high school aged nieces got to hear about her when she was their age.

There are many lessons I could pass along with you who have traveled this path. Lily Tomlin famously noted, “We are all in this together—by ourselves.” Grief, recovery, and permission to live again occur individually in your own way. I’ll offer two notes—love and remembrance. Your heartbreak over time becomes a memorial to your love. Find specific ways to remember and honor the person you lost. It could be to give a piece of jewelry of your lost one to another family member and share stories. Dedicate a song. Raise a toast. As long as you remember—they are with you and love shines brightly. I hope I’m around when Volume II of “The Susan Awards” is written over the next twenty years. Best wishes for 2025.

Books may be ordered on Amazon, Walmart, and Thriftbooks. All proceeds from book sales go towards the prize awards for individual winners.