It has been two years now since my dear sister-in-law, Cindy, exited this world, after a very brief illness. So, I thought it would be appropriate, in her memory, to run this column again. Plus, I know she'd enjoy the fact that I'm also using this piece from the vault because I'm so very far behind with my other work. Since she raised six kids, I'm certain that she understood what it was like to be overwhelmed and unable to pluck an original idea from the brain. Without further ado, in honor of my remarkable and so-very-missed friend, I present you with this piece from possibly the worst January in recent memory.

Mourning for Cindy

I just returned from the funeral of my ex sister in law, Cindy Boyd, which was held in the Chautauqua region of New York.

I am not writing this to bring down the mood of my readers but the whole experience has led me to reflect on death and the process of grieving.

This gal and I remained very close even after we became “exes.” (Her husband and my ex are brothers.) She not once even used the word ex, but maintained that I would, “always be her sis,” and the aunt to her six children, now grown.

At age 51, she died of a cancer that literally moved so swiftly that it was merely a little over a month ago that she called me to say the hardest words in her life, “I have cancer.”

During the funeral, at which at least 30 people stood up to say a word, including your humble columnist, I wondered what kind of legacy I would leave.

I also questioned the mourning process and how we, as a society, often cannot or do not take the time to do so.

In Jewish tradition, sitting shiva is a custom in which the very immediate family members take “time off” and refrain from cooking, cleaning, travel and other things that interfere with grieving. This begins directly after the burial and continues for one week.

Mirrors in the home are covered as to ignore physicality and vanity and to instead concentrate on the reality of being a soul. This is just a very basic description as this isn't really a lesson in Judaism, but is an observation of what I feel to be a beautiful custom.

I think that as humans, we absolutely need to stop, really STOP and take the time to do nothing for as long as possible after the passing of a loved one. It is an almost impossible “non task” in this day and age, due to work and other obligations. (Thank goodness my boss allowed a late deadline this week because of Cindy's death.)

The thing is, most folks have to travel, as did, to reach the destination of a family member who has passed. A whirlwind of activity unfolds in a matter of days, more travel is needed and then, finally, home is reached. To me, this only adds to the shock, once the dust settles and getting back to “normal” life begins.

Why has life become so hectic that we rush and rush and almost always avoid feelings? I do not know the answer to that mystery but for some, it seems to be comforting to “keep busy.”

I've often heard that So & So is doing well and “keeping really busy and on the go” since the death of her/his loved one. It often makes me ponder as to why it appears to be socially acceptable or the norm these days to do anything to veer away from actually feeling.

I don't really agree with the above mentioned idea of avoidance, as I am convinced that we are programmed to lament. There is no question that we have the built-in instinct to cease, desist, think, feel, wail, question why and face our emotions. But, for some reason, some feel better about not doing so.

I know this isn't my normal type-of-piece, but I thought it might cause one to think of the current human condition and some of the interesting ways in which we mourn or avoid doing so.

If nothing else, it is my hope that it might have made you contemplate the subject at hand. If not, and I'm more like a rambling goof ball, I apologize and I'm sure you will forgive me under the circumstances.

With that, I am going to do the best that I can for the paper this week and then, I shall tackle the important, and life affirming, “assignment” of crying and wrestling with the question “why,” just to name two. This is my particular way to “get in touch” with my inner being.

In the end, I shall continue to remember the rare bond that I had with this woman. I will celebrate, with vigor, the mark that Cindy Boyd, my dear “Sis,” left on my life, and will recognize that we had a kinship and a special attachment that will never be replaced.