Two Years

I know it's a cliche, but there are things that happen in your life that when they happen, you never forget where you were or what you were doing when they occur.

I was in my office two years ago and the phone rang. I saw on the display that it was my mom. I picked up the phone and as soon as she said my name, I knew something was wrong.

"Liz passed away this morning," she said. I literally almost dropped the phone.

All I could say was, "What?!? WHAT?!?"

I'll never forget driving home, trying to figure out how I was going to tell Kell, who had grown close to Liz. I walked into the house and Kell was in a great mood, playing with Joey. I stood there and just blurted out what had happened. It was awful.

My cousin, Elizabeth (D'Agostino) Schermerhorn, was diagnosed with leukemia in October, 2004, just days after my son was born. She apparently hadn't been feeling well for some time and when she went to her doctor, she got the news everyone dreads to hear.

I'm sitting here looking at the screen and I'm at a loss what to type next.

The family was devastated. She was only 42 years old when she passed away, having just celebrated her birthday on Dec. 18. She left behind her husband and son (who will turn 14 this year).

Two years later and I still can't wrap my brain around this.

After being diagnosed, Liz went through chemo and other treatments and was up and down for a while. But, not long before she passed away, she received a bone marrow transplant and seemed to be getting much better. But within a matter of hours on Jan. 5, she deteriorated rapidly and lost her fight early the next morning. Just like that, she went from showing so much improvement to ... losing the fight.

My mom told me that Liz had said she just wanted 10 more years to see her son turn 21.

Again, I'm trying to make sense of this ... trying to put this into words and I feel like I'm failing miserably. I know this post is random, but bear with me.

I just can't imagine what it's like to lose a child, regardless of their age. This hits me especially hard now that I have Joey in my life. I look at him and can't begin to fathom what it would be like if something happened to him.

I loved my cousin so much. She was such an amazing person and had the greatest sense of humor and her laugh was infectious. I used to like to listen to her talk because at times a soft New York accent would creep in, like "talk" would be "tawk" ... it wasn't a strong accent, but it was there.

And yeah, she was a Yankees fan, but nobody's perfect, right?

Whenever my mom and her sister (Liz's mother), my sister, Kell and Liz would get together, literally the laughter never stopped. And they would all laugh a certain way only when they were together. Growing up, I could always tell when my mom was talking to "Auntie" or Liz on the phone because of the way she laughed.

Liz played the piano and was a huge Beatles fan. Anytime I hear the Beatles or Billy Joel (Liz played him a lot), I think of Liz immediately.

Her funeral was ... I don't know ... what is there to say? We were all in the funeral home and people were saying things and the priest was there and then as part of the service, the Beatles' "In My Life" started playing. My heart broke, that's the only way I can describe it. My sister and I just held each other, crying.

After the funeral, I was talking to my cousin, Chris, and he said, "Man, this really puts things in perspective, doesn't it?"

I agreed. But I also said that the trick is to keep that perspective. It's too easy when you get back to your life to lose that perspective. You start answering email, playing bills, living your life again and you forget.

I haven't. If there's one good thing to come from Liz being taken from us is that whenever I start to get stressed out about something, I stop and think of her. Think about the fact that her son won't have her at his high school graduation, his wedding, all of those significant events coming in his life. I think about how lucky I am to be there for Joey and Kell, how amazing it is to be a dad and husband, how I can never take that for granted ... and I try not to let small things bother me. It's just not worth it.

I'm so glad Liz got to meet Joey and frankly, I'm still angry at the fact that she's not going to be around to see him because I know he would have absolutely loved her. She had such a way with kids and was always a lot of fun to hang out with ... no doubt Joey would've called her "Auntie Liz" or something like that.

Liz is always on my mind, whether I realize it or not. Like I said, her birthday is Dec. 18 and I had totally forgotten about it last month. But the night of the 17th, I had dreamt about Liz several times. In the last dream, we were on a boardwalk of some kind and were visiting the booths and playing games and talking about the fact that she was going to die. Even in the dream, I realized I was dreaming and I kept telling her that I didn't want her to die ... it wasn't fair to her son, to us ... but most of all, it wasn't fair to her. I kept telling her how awful this is and how angry I am that she wasn't going to be around.

I remember this part of the dream as though it happened is real life ... She turned to me, looked me square in the eye and said, "Bryan, there's nothing I can do about it ... things like this happen and they happen for a reason. I don't know what that reason is, but they happen and those people who are still here need to move on and help one another. I'm not really going to be gone, I just won't be here."

That's when I woke up for the last time that night because I couldn't sleep after that. "I'm not really going to be gone, I just won't be here." I guess she's right because I will never forget her and I'm so grateful for the time we had together.

Two years ... it can't be ... it just can't be.