A Story from A Circle of Sisters In Honor of Clint
Today is the anniversary of my cousin, Clint's death. As I was reading a post on Facebook from my aunt, I realized how powerful her story is. She wrote about some of her experiences after his death for A Circle of Sisters. With her permission, I would like to share that story with you today, along with a few photos of my cousin. There is so much power in love. I'm a lucky girl to have both fond memories of my cousin and a wonderful aunt who is brave enough to share her story, even when it is hard. I love you Aunt Dana.
By Dana DiGrolamo
For about six weeks I had served in a Relief Society calling
at the prison. I loved the women. You could tell who really wanted to be there,
the ones who attended meetings just to get out of their cells, and the ones who
wanted to be there to sit with their friends.
Little did I know I would have an experience that week that
would turn my world upside down. My beautiful oldest son, who was thirty years
old, died unexpectedly. I received much-needed help, love, and support from my
own ward. I didn’t even know many of the women who helped. It was the hardest
day in my life. He passed away on a Thursday, and I went to the prison the week
after. I was asked to talk that day about my son, whose death had partly been
caused by a drug overdose. Many of the women were in prison for drug-related
crimes, and the Relief Society president thought perhaps I could reach some of
them.
As I stood at the front of the class, I had the biggest lump
in my throat. I talked very openly and candidly about my son. I told the women
if they didn’t turn their lives around, it would affect the people that loved
them so very much. I was old enough to be many of the inmates’ mother. After a
very tearful lesson where the Spirit was there in abundance, every one of the
inmates got into a line and came and hugged me. It was a feeling and a moment I
will never forget.
People who serve at the prison are told not to take anything
from the inmates. The prisoners in Relief Society had wanted to make me a card,
they said, but had been unable to. I told them it was okay. But I guess my husband didn’t get the same
memo. When we got home that day, he said an inmate had given him a card for me.
I called the Relief Society president, who called the bishop. He told her I
could keep the card. It was beautifully handmade and printed. It is so special
to me it is glued inside my scriptures. It reads as follows:
“I heard a woman speak about love today. She said nothing in
this world is perfect. Her son had just died. She loved him very much, and to
her, although he had human frailties, love had made him perfect.
“It was wonderful to hear—to feel—her love for him. ‘He was
perfect to me,’ she said in tears.
“Love, I believe, teaches to overlook faults, to be patient.
To forbear and understand. It teaches forgiveness. Love is a strong desire to
help others. No matter the price. Love is a crucible where those who throw
themselves into the flame come out more pure. More alive and rich and whole.
“It’s the reason we are, our purpose and promise in life.
“Love is . . .
“Mary loved her Son as much as you love yours. He’s smiling
on you and he is proud of you. Remember to laugh. Keep teaching your lessons.
Don’t ever lose your light. Let it shine. It’s real. Your family is lucky to
have you. Smile—today is a good day. Look at Easter this year in a new light.
“Sincerely,
“The Artist, aka ‘Pastel’”
I had met this awesome sister on a Friday night as we had an
art class for enrichment. I was so stunned and humbled. I fell to my knees and
thanked my Father in Heaven. That letter is one of my most precious
possessions.