Portrait of a life.....
Hello there patient reader. I am thanking you for your patience in advance of you reading this post. Because if you've read my blog for any length of time, you will notice big gaps between posts lately, and when I have written, it's largely been about my precious friend losing her battle with cancer. If you happen to have known my friend Melody, then I'm sure you will forgive me this one last post in her memory. For those of you who never made her acquaintance, part of me feels sorry for you, and part of me hopes that in the following words you will identify a treasured one currently in your life, and give them long hugs the very next chance you get. :)
Dear Melody,
We just returned from attending your memorial service. YOUR memorial service. No matter how many times I say that sentence, I still just can't make sense of it.
Yes, I know you passed in December, but it's taken this long to plan and orchestrate a fitting memorial for you, in a venue that would hold a fraction of your friends and family. And boy did your friends and family ever do right by you. The place was perfect. It was a barn type setting with lights strung up, warm space heaters placed everywhere, and an environment of cozy, welcoming, simplicity. Just like you would've wanted.
There were pictures of you everywhere...large blown up pictures capturing YOUR warmth, YOUR welcoming smile, YOUR simple way of loving people. A slide show with shot after shot of you mugging for the camera, kissing one or both of your girls, making silly faces, hugging your man, and always with your wide-eyed, magnetic smile that makes me smile every time I think of it. Except for today. Today it all was a little much for me. I had to seek a quiet place outside holed up against the building and take a few minutes to regain a measure of composure. I really miss you Melody!
So, funny story. I knew you'd get a kick out of this in our shared morbid way. I was filtering through the crowd that was filing in to find seats, and I found myself looking around, just for a split second, to find you, and say hi. I wonder how long it will take before your loss is something I can accept? You know how stubborn I am!
Your daughters are so beautiful. There's a maturity in their faces over the last few weeks that one can only attain with experience. Sadly, this is an experience no parent wants their children to live through. But they are holding up SO well, graciously greeting the attendees and handing out programs. I don't know how they do it. They must've had SOME mother.....you would've been so proud.
The service was lovely. All your favorite people spoke, those that were able to. They read tributes written to you by your closest family members. You've left a hole that will never be filled. I know you would tell us to remember all the fun we had and to move on eventually....but I just don't see that happening. I hope you can handle that. ;)
There was a theme in the things people said about you. The phrase that was most often repeated was, "She was my best friend!" What a testament to how you made people feel! I've mentioned this about you before. You drew people out and made them MATTER. And they knew it, once they had been with you for a few minutes.
As a Pastor's kid, you can probably imagine just how many funerals and life celebrations I've attended over the years. This was the first one that made me want to be a better person, because of who you were. You elevated those around you to a different place. Because of how you treated them, the way you gave them your full attention. It made me want to make other people feel that same way. If I would've told you this a few months ago, you would've thrown your head back and clasped your hands in front you and exclaimed "Oh GIRL!! You crack me UP!!" But I would've repeated it until you saw that I truly meant it.
So, during the service, I was holding my own. The growing pile of wadded tissues in my purse had slowed up a bit. Until the very last slide of the slide show that had shown so many beautiful pictures that totally captured your spirit. This last slide had words on it. Some of the last words I heard you say. Remember that night? It was just a couple nights before you passed away. There was just 3 of us attending to you. My daughter was smoothing your bed linens and getting them ready for you to crawl back into after you and I finished your bath. I remember telling you I wished I could provide a tub full of warm bubbles for you to play in. You actually laughed, as hard as it was for you to breathe. You had had a rough day that day, and had entered what was one of your last lucid periods. Holly was busy talking to the nurses about could they please get all your care done so when we tucked you in to sleep you wouldn't be disturbed? We all had our roles. I was drying and rubbing your back, but you didn't want to go straight to bed, exhausted as you were. You wanted to talk. And so I signaled the other girls and we drew in close around you. Our precious friend. Here's what you said. "You know? I think..I think I've learned all that God wanted to teach me. I think I've learned it, and now I'm ready to get better. I'm ready to feel better. I tell my babies...you live your life and you love people and you just love and love, and you can't help it cuz it just pours out of you, cuz that's what you do. And God is crazy that way cuz he brings it all back to you." And then we cried with you Melody. And it was okay to cry with you because you were at peace. You were ready to feel better. You knew what that meant. At that point we were ready for you to feel better too. And after you had said all that you wanted to say, we lovingly tucked you into bed and covered your face with goodnight kisses, and prayed with you. That night is one of my most treasured memories. My daughter wrote your words on the hospital white board and tonight was the first time I've seen them since. They totally undid me. But it's your legacy. And I'm so glad it got preserved. We will carry on your wishes, we will carry on the things you've learned. Someone wrote those words and framed them. They will always be with your family. Your portrait...of a life. Rest easy my friend. I will miss you always.
Dear Melody,
We just returned from attending your memorial service. YOUR memorial service. No matter how many times I say that sentence, I still just can't make sense of it.
Yes, I know you passed in December, but it's taken this long to plan and orchestrate a fitting memorial for you, in a venue that would hold a fraction of your friends and family. And boy did your friends and family ever do right by you. The place was perfect. It was a barn type setting with lights strung up, warm space heaters placed everywhere, and an environment of cozy, welcoming, simplicity. Just like you would've wanted.
There were pictures of you everywhere...large blown up pictures capturing YOUR warmth, YOUR welcoming smile, YOUR simple way of loving people. A slide show with shot after shot of you mugging for the camera, kissing one or both of your girls, making silly faces, hugging your man, and always with your wide-eyed, magnetic smile that makes me smile every time I think of it. Except for today. Today it all was a little much for me. I had to seek a quiet place outside holed up against the building and take a few minutes to regain a measure of composure. I really miss you Melody!
So, funny story. I knew you'd get a kick out of this in our shared morbid way. I was filtering through the crowd that was filing in to find seats, and I found myself looking around, just for a split second, to find you, and say hi. I wonder how long it will take before your loss is something I can accept? You know how stubborn I am!
Your daughters are so beautiful. There's a maturity in their faces over the last few weeks that one can only attain with experience. Sadly, this is an experience no parent wants their children to live through. But they are holding up SO well, graciously greeting the attendees and handing out programs. I don't know how they do it. They must've had SOME mother.....you would've been so proud.
The service was lovely. All your favorite people spoke, those that were able to. They read tributes written to you by your closest family members. You've left a hole that will never be filled. I know you would tell us to remember all the fun we had and to move on eventually....but I just don't see that happening. I hope you can handle that. ;)
There was a theme in the things people said about you. The phrase that was most often repeated was, "She was my best friend!" What a testament to how you made people feel! I've mentioned this about you before. You drew people out and made them MATTER. And they knew it, once they had been with you for a few minutes.
As a Pastor's kid, you can probably imagine just how many funerals and life celebrations I've attended over the years. This was the first one that made me want to be a better person, because of who you were. You elevated those around you to a different place. Because of how you treated them, the way you gave them your full attention. It made me want to make other people feel that same way. If I would've told you this a few months ago, you would've thrown your head back and clasped your hands in front you and exclaimed "Oh GIRL!! You crack me UP!!" But I would've repeated it until you saw that I truly meant it.
So, during the service, I was holding my own. The growing pile of wadded tissues in my purse had slowed up a bit. Until the very last slide of the slide show that had shown so many beautiful pictures that totally captured your spirit. This last slide had words on it. Some of the last words I heard you say. Remember that night? It was just a couple nights before you passed away. There was just 3 of us attending to you. My daughter was smoothing your bed linens and getting them ready for you to crawl back into after you and I finished your bath. I remember telling you I wished I could provide a tub full of warm bubbles for you to play in. You actually laughed, as hard as it was for you to breathe. You had had a rough day that day, and had entered what was one of your last lucid periods. Holly was busy talking to the nurses about could they please get all your care done so when we tucked you in to sleep you wouldn't be disturbed? We all had our roles. I was drying and rubbing your back, but you didn't want to go straight to bed, exhausted as you were. You wanted to talk. And so I signaled the other girls and we drew in close around you. Our precious friend. Here's what you said. "You know? I think..I think I've learned all that God wanted to teach me. I think I've learned it, and now I'm ready to get better. I'm ready to feel better. I tell my babies...you live your life and you love people and you just love and love, and you can't help it cuz it just pours out of you, cuz that's what you do. And God is crazy that way cuz he brings it all back to you." And then we cried with you Melody. And it was okay to cry with you because you were at peace. You were ready to feel better. You knew what that meant. At that point we were ready for you to feel better too. And after you had said all that you wanted to say, we lovingly tucked you into bed and covered your face with goodnight kisses, and prayed with you. That night is one of my most treasured memories. My daughter wrote your words on the hospital white board and tonight was the first time I've seen them since. They totally undid me. But it's your legacy. And I'm so glad it got preserved. We will carry on your wishes, we will carry on the things you've learned. Someone wrote those words and framed them. They will always be with your family. Your portrait...of a life. Rest easy my friend. I will miss you always.
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