Melanie Marguerite Burosh

How does one write an obituary? What should it say? Is an obituary the same as a eulogy? These are some of the questions that a person may find themselves asking (and Googling) when tasked with honoring with words one whom many people loved and cared for. So first, the bare facts: Melanie M. Burosh was many things–first, a daughter and a sister; then, a wife; soon thereafter, a mother (to three very attractive and funny boys); later still, she became a grandmother. All of this intertwined very well with her being a homemaker, a business owner, a very active member of the Catholic Church, and so much more throughout her life. But one thing that Melanie was also known for, unfortunately, was being chronically ill to one degree or another, essentially her whole life through. As such, it was likely a varying combination of her lifelong type 1 diabetes, her end-stage kidney disease, and her late-sprouting heart issues that eventually did her in on June 9, 2024 at about 4:30pm, as she sat awake and aware, side-by-side with her devoted husband, Donald, in their home of nearly 40 years, mere minutes after having participated in the recitation of the Chaplet of Divine Mercy on television. Now, anyone who interacted with Melanie in these last few years especially, probably didn’t need to be a doctor to ascertain that she wasn’t having a whole lot of fun in her daily life. Consequently, for a lot of us, these earthly afflictions may have understandably served as somewhat of a mental-identifier of sorts for those who knew Melanie (ie. Such as how we compartmentalize in our brains the neighbor who is obsessed with his yard; or the girl who always has her makeup on, even at the pool, etc. Hence, “Melanie was the woman with health issues.”). But even so, thanks to Melanie’s underlying personality, most of us also pleasantly knew that these diseases were hardly foundational in truly defining what Melanie’s life was, or who–and how–she was; they were just something she dealt with. At this point in a eulogy or obituary (or whatever this is turning into) most people understandably and respectfully revere the dead as perhaps being slightly more than they were–always this or that; never something negative or bad; The nicest person you’d ever met, or something else a bit overarching and slightly cliche. That said, Melanie Burosh was, indeed, a human being who had her faults, and who occasionally got mad and grouchy (even at her three aforementioned, innocent [and handsome] boys, if you can believe it), but I think it’s safe to say that truly, most EVERYONE who knew Melanie, even briefly, would probably sign off on the notion that, despite her near constant discomfort, she was predictably and persistently as upbeat and pleasant and kind as she possibly could have been, nearly at all times. Obviously, this isn’t an earth-shattering revelation, but then again, maybe it kind of is. We’ve all known people who will subconsciously punish those around them if they have even the slightest of headaches or a tiny cold (feel free to glare at your significant other now); we’ve also all known people who will mope around like a raincloud and suck the energy out of a room if they’re having an amorphous “bad day.” Hey, maybe we are those people, at least sometimes… But I guess the point that I’m trying to make is that, Melanie had ALL of the excuses in the world to snap at her husband (which, in the name of honesty, she sometimes did), become annoyed or impatient with those she loved (which she also sometimes did, too), but what she never was, was consistently unpleasant. She was never one of those people who you’d see and purposely avoid because of how they made you feel. On the contrary, it was the opposite. To phrase it as a metaphor, Melanie never merely “played the hand she’d been dealt,” by giving in to the sorrow and suffering that her symptoms presented her, rather, she made up her own game, and played by her own rules. And that game, those rules, can quite simply be defined as, “love.” And the importance of such a simple concept really cannot be overstated. I’ve witnessed my mother, Melanie, befriending the types of outcasts who are talked about when they aren’t around, even when she could have turned her back on them, too. But her heart would not allow for that. I’ve seen her lend her ear, her mind and her compassion to perfect strangers approaching her with a problem or worry, even when she knew it was going to be an inescapable conversation, and she could’ve easily lied and pretended to have to go. But her heart would not allow for that. I’ve witnessed in awe, kids at religious retreats breaking down and crying, while letters from their parents–their Catholic parents–were read aloud in front of everyone, stating, “I love you,” to their children for the very first time in their lives. But with Melanie, there was never a day we were around her when we didn’t hear that simple, but all-important phrase, even though we already knew she loved us, and she no longer had to say it. But her heart would not allow for that. In essence, through the daily sacrifices that she made as a person–both seen and unseen, both the large and the barely perceivable–Melanie exuded a simultaneous deep and a simple love, so pervasive, that at times it was almost unnoticeable, simply because it was always there, right alongside her cross to bear, which, to us, at times, also became invisible, as well. So, as we remember the life of Melanie M. Burosh today, and on all days hereafter, let us take time to appropriately mourn the loss of our loving acquaintance, parishioner, friend, sister-in-law, aunt, grandmother, mother and wife, and let’s also seek to examine within ourselves if perhaps we are as capable in our own lives, even with our own personal struggles in tow too, in being able to spread a permeating love to those whom we care about–and to those maybe we don’t, as well–in much the same way that Melanie so effortlessly succeeded in. And finally, let us also take time to celebrate the life of this wonderful woman; her accomplishments, her legacy, and maybe most importantly, the end of her physical suffering, and the beginning of her spiritual bliss. Certainly, we could be sad and wallow in our sorrow or loneliness, but as Melanie looks down on us from above, free from her earthly shackles, that’s not how she’d want us to be for her. Her heart simply would not allow for that. _________________________________ Sirach 38:16-23 Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition On Mourning for the Dead 16 My son, let your tears fall for the dead, and as one who is suffering grievously begin the lament. Lay out his body with the honor due him, and do not neglect his burial. 17 Let your weeping be bitter and your wailing fervent; observe the mourning according to his merit, for one day, or two, to avoid criticism; then be comforted for your sorrow. 18 For sorrow results in death, and sorrow of heart saps one’s strength. 19 In calamity sorrow continues, and the life of the poor man weighs down his heart. 20 Do not give your heart to sorrow; drive it away, remembering the end of life. 21 Do not forget, there is no coming back; you do the dead[a] no good, and you injure yourself. 22 “Remember my doom, for yours is like it: yesterday it was mine, and today it is yours.” 23 When the dead is at rest, let his remembrance cease, and be comforted for him when his spirit has departed.