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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Let passage of time heal your pain


A car passes the roadside memorial set up for Terry Enman who died in a car accident at Dishman Mica and Eighth Avenue in 2000. 
 (Liz Kishimoto / The Spokesman-Review)
Sandra Babcock Special to Voice

Will it end? Do those in mourning discover the light of day once again?

The answer is yes, but for some, letting go is more difficult.

For two years, a roadside memorial complete with cross and plastic wreath in the middle, stood at Dishman-Mica and Eighth Avenue.

Then one day on the way to work I noticed the cross was gone and breathed two sighs of relief: One for the family for overcoming their grief and moving on, and one for the community for being spared from seeing this display day after day.

Soon after, construction began on 16th Avenue that altered my normal work route for several months. One afternoon I forgot about the construction and followed my old route up Dishman-Mica toward 16th.

And there it was again. The same cross with the same trademark plastic wreath hanging in the middle.

But that’s not all.

Next to it were two metal ladders crisscrossed in the shape of a cross. Ladders. Metal. Plastic flowers. Yikes.

Mourning is a transitional period, flowing with despair one day and hope the next. For some it’s a personal time, for others an open book, and still others prefer a public acknowledgement of their loss.

Several makeshift memorials have cropped up throughout Spokane. There is an intense desire that draws people into this need of marking that specific spot – and pulling the community into the tragedy as well.

Professionally made signs have also been erected by families in hopes this will save others from the same fate. These memorials remind our community, in a clear, unobtrusive way, to drive safely.

Other outlets for grief can be made by way of donations or fund-raisers established in memory of the deceased that benefit the community.

I don’t want to appear hardhearted, and I’m not poking fun at those who put up these makeshift memorials. Nor am I trying to add to their misery. I’m familiar with the deep, knife-like pain that slices your insides when a loved one is lost. There are no words to describe that hole in your heart.

But that hole can’t be filled by marking the exact spot that death occurred with crosses, wreaths, metal ladders, plastic flowers, whirly things, streamers – you name it – all over the place.

That hole can only be filled with the passage of time.

There are cemeteries, places of peace and tranquility, where crosses and flowers, memorials and memories can be preserved until the day arrives when hope replaces loss, and peace sets in.

Allow life to end with dignity. Pushing the limits will eventually start a lawmaking process that wastes money and time, and adds more words to the codebook.

Common sense is all that’s needed.