Throughout my 67 years of life, I have shared my entire existence with only two individuals: my brother, Greg, and my sister, Debra.  The three of us have indelible positive memories of growing up together, and that glue hasn’t dried up.   As each of us have left home and gotten married, starting our own families, we continued seeing each other to celebrate birthdays and holidays together as the original Crosbys, a bond unbroken, transcending any differences in politics or lifestyle.

We weathered losing our father at the age of 60 in 1973, when we were 24, 20, and 14.  When we lost our mother at age 82 in 2006, it was a wake-up call that our generation would be next in line to pass away.

We were fortunate to live almost two decades before another funeral.  Sadly, a few weeks ago, Greg’s wife, Jane, passed away.  They were married for 47 years.  Losing a spouse is a deeper loss than losing one’s parents because it is one’s life partner.  People live with their parents for on average of 20 years, but marriages can last more than double that length. 

When people find out how long a couple is married, it is applauded:  25, 30, 50 years.  Yet the longer a person is with their partner, the harder it is to live without that companion. My brother was blessed to have 47 years with his wife, nearly twice as many as our parents had.  The longer the marriage, the deeper the loss.

For my sister and I it is difficult watching our brother grieve, a life experience neither one of us has had.   I already have friends who have lost a sibling so we’re lucky that the three of us are still around.  But when the time comes for one of us to leave, it will be yet another unpleasant loss. 

I’ve often thought that when a person close to us passes away, in an odd way, their passing is a gift to us:  a reminder of how precious life is.  With each passing, there is increased urgency so make the most of the remainder of one’s years.  And it is the duty of the living to keep alive the memory of those who meant so much to us.