Mary Elizabeth Ryan will never grow older.
This is because she died in her sleep three days ago.
If I could say one thing about her that would resonate,
It would be this: She was like the willow tree.
There are tangibles in this life: there will always be a little boy with a pencil observing the things around him, there will always be another tragedy, another miracle to witness, another year to pass, another death, another birth. There will always be another love story. But there will never be someone as ingenious you to bring it into existence.
The fact of the matter is that our story must someday end but it is this truth that makes it beautiful.
Mary Ryan taught me this.
Mary Ryan also told me stories about my grandfather but she didn’t know I was his grandson.
I wish I would have told her the truth because she was wonderful and she deserved it.
Her favorite word was illuminate. How poignant and perfect. She was the very source of light. In this little corner of the universe, she shone brighter than anyone else. That’s just who she was. It’s lovely to think that a silhouette of her has remained behind, hiding somewhere in the shadows of our retinas, glowing softly like an amber necklace does in moonlight. Remaining, everlastingly herself; intertwined and interconnected with us.
I didn’t want to come here today but I did because someone who is very wise and just as wonderful as her grandmother told me that if I didn’t come “an unsaid goodbye would always chap my lips” and I guess that stuck with me.
So here it is.
Goodbye Mary Ryan.
You are the one forever before and the one forever after.
