by Sandy Fox
I often think of an afternoon stage production I attended with five friends because it confirms to me that my child lives on in other hearts as well as mine.
While waiting on line to get in to the production, I saw an old aquaintance whose chidren knew my daughter Marcy. The mother, Yetta, and her son Mark were there to see the production also. Mark’s wife wrote it and stars in it.
After saying hello to Yetta, I was introduced to her son. “Mark, this is Sandy Fox. Do you remember Sandy’s daughter, Marcy Finerman?” Before Mark’s mom could explain the circumstances now, Mark blurted out, “Yes,” he said, his eyes lighting up, “We went to grade school together, and how is Marcy doing?”
“She was killed in a car accident 15 years ago,” I answered. Yetta was very embarrassed, but Mark didn’t miss a beat. “I’m so sorry,” he said very sincerely. “Marcy and I were friends. I do remember her,” he said. “Yes,” I said to him, “I remember your name among her friends. I was looking at a 43-year-old man, the same age as Marcy would have been this year, but, of course, would have never recognized him. But Yetta had remembered Marcy from almost 30 years ago. With her reaction, she gave me a precious gift.
Her gift was just mentioning Marcy’s name. She didn’t have to. She was aware of what happened 15 years ago. Even though we had lost touch many years prior, she had heard the news and remembered it. Most bereaved parents want nothing more than for someone to acknowledge their child existed and is still remembered. Although I have nothing in common with Mark, the kindness on his face told me all I needed to know, and his mother’s words allowed me to talk comfortably, even if briefly, about her and the situation.
Marcy’s best friend Lynn always talks about her and Marcy’s time together, about places they went to, about things they did, about the hopes and dreams they both had for their future. I am very lucky to be close to Lynn and I know Lynn will always remember Marcy and not be afraid to talk about her, laugh with me and share great memories.
One of my friends at the theater production came up to me afterwards and said, “It must feel good to have someone bring up your daughter’s name and remember that they went to school together so long ago.” “Yes, very good,” I said to my friend. To myself I thought, “You can’t know how good!”
Knowing our children are remembered and live on in the hearts and lives of others, no matter how briefly, is a measure of the wonderful legacy they have left to us and to everyone they knew and who knew them.
Tags: grief, hope
Sandy, my terribly belated attempt offering words of encouragement. Thank God for friends of our children whose comments are often so earnest, simple, and heartfelt. I suffer from all those symptoms of bereavement, only my child was the one who lived. My grief is on the other side of the fence…the criminal side. I have lost a son to schizophrenia and he will be locked up and out of my arms for 27 years. I will share with all an excerpt from a book I am writing. “I had a dear friend whose newly wed daughter lost her life in Los Angeles to a hit and run driver who has never been found, to my knowledge. Over the next few years after this incident we drifted apart partly because I did not know what to say to her; her grief was so strong. I felt awkward and inadequate. She later coped with her anguish by writing a tribute to her daughter’s life in a compilation of praises from all who knew and loved her daughter, Marcy. Sandy sent me a copy…I especially liked one recollection encouraged by her rabbi. I remember thinking that this book was a wonderfully cathartic thing for her to have done, but sadly, I don’t think I ever responded to tell her how terribly brave I thought she was. Many times I have regretted this. My point is that even your friends will easily alienate themselves from you, and even easier when your child was at fault for a criminal offense. .. Thank God for those friends who do know what to say, who do stand by you and offer their support and words of understanding or encouragement….