Sometimes there is a level of synchronicity that reaches the point where I step back and take another look at what is happening. That is what the month of March came to be for me.
My father, Donald Christian Johnson, was born 09/19/1916. He was an active and healthy man who loved to garden and golf. He became sick in the fall of 1996, a lingering respiratory thing that just wouldn’t go away. Many trips to the doctor and a couple of lung biopsies later (we are now in August 1997) he had exploratory surgery. The doctor found a cancerous tumor behind a massive lung infection. In September he began having problems with balance and vision and saw a specialist. By the time my dad saw an oncologist it was October. He’d been sick about a year. Diagnosis? The cancer had metastasized to his brain.
He died March 08, 1998.
My mother, Jean Elizabeth Rawson Johnson, was born 03/25/1918. She was a loyal wife and for the most part, stay-at-home mom. (She did work part time when my youngest brother was in high school). She loved reading, art, and saw her role as making a warm and welcoming home for her family. When they first married she really couldn’t cook. By the time I was old enough to notice those things she fixed gourmet meals along with the staples of spaghetti, hamburgers, macaroni and cheese, etc. In many ways she never recovered from my dad’s death (they were a few months shy of their fifty-eight’s wedding anniversary and had known and dated for sixty years. Mom’s health had it’s ups and downs. In January 2002 she used her emergency call button, the EMT’s came and she went to the Emergency Department never to return home.
She died March 04, 2002.
My brother, James Stuart Johnson, was born 10/25/1945. A few years younger than I but five years older than our youngest brother, he loved music and supported himself through college by playing in a band around campus. He “played” the steering wheel and dashboard of his car, the coffee table in front of the couch, and when he was younger my brother’s and my heads. He was a lot like mom in that they could sit and talk about what people wore at various family gatherings. (If I was asked, in all seriousness I’d probably say something like “Clothes?” When my dad was ill, Jim came up from Phoenix, AZ where he lived for a few weeks to help out. He told us then he had emphysema. When mom was sick, he came up. He was on oxygen and told us (my youngest brother and me) that he had a year to live.
He died on March 26, 2004.
My Aunt Marne (Margaret Laura Rawson Gannon) was born 12/23/1919. She was 21 months or so younger than my mom. From what mom said, having a tag-a-long younger sister was a difficult and in many ways she resented having to take her younger sister with her when she went out with friends or on dates. More than once my mom warned me not to do something similar with my two granddaughters. “Let them have their own lives,” she said. Marne was a military wife and as such lived in many different parts of the country. She and her Army Captain husband had six children. Her family (both her children and her siblings) were strong in her heart.
She died on March 05, 2013.
If you read my post at www.RomancingTheGenres.blogspot.com, you’ll know that I have two books due out soon. Love & Magick – Mystical Stories of Romance and the first three novels in The Sacred Women’s Circle series. Even though at least two of the three will be ready to publish before March 4th, 5th, 8th, or 26th, I have decided what better way to turn my month of death into a month of love.