It’s been three years today. Three years since the machines were turned off and Megan’s time on earth was ended. People in general still aren’t clear on what happened to her, they still hear slightly off information and they ask from time to time. ‘I’m sorry to ask you this but what did happen.’ (It’s ok, it’s ok to ask.) ‘Well, y’all, her blood pressure skyrocketed and her brain swelled and we don’t know why, really.’ But she’s gone. Three years today.
In the last three years, she’s taught me a lot. She’s taught me all over again about forgiveness. Letting go of wrongs done with and without ill intent. She’s taught me about letting people back in over and over. She’s taught me not to take friendships for granted ever again; to tell my people how much I love them and how thankful I am for them. To let the veneer fall away. Be happier than is “cool”, be closer than is normal, be realer than everyone else. Just say the thing you’re feeling. She’s taught me to question my own motives about who and why people are in my life and be sure their love is genuine.
She’s taught me that time is short. Shorter than we ever think. And life goes by so fast. And so Meg would say to enjoy your kids and your family and your friends. To leave the dang dishes which are always there and take the walk. Forget the laundry and play tea party. Have the coke and call the loved one who needs a pep talk and don’t worry so much about the floors.
Meg was my cheerleader. But she wasn’t just mine. She was so many people’s cheerleader. She believed the good in us. She chose to see that which was better in you and me, no matter how many times we showed her otherwise. She chose love.
Today, let’s remember Megan. Remember her way of shining. Her way of laughing when things went wrong. Her way of giving all she had. Her way of loving.
Megan Marisa Clark Johnson, you are so loved.