A little over a week ago I sat in the pews of a nearby Houston church for the memorial service of a high school friend. Next to two girls I’ve known almost fifteen years, I mourned from a place so deep I feared I would drown in all the sorrow. She died at barely 29, a little over two years after she was diagnosed with the beastly disease. She and I were co-captains of our volleyball team. In those days, we had dated boys who were good friends; we went to homecoming and then prom together, in the same big ole party bus. Truth be told, we had not been particularly close or even kept in touch all these years after high school. But now all I could think about was her contagious laughter and that remarkable brightness in her eyes. I sat there in that pew trying to remember the way her hand felt when we high-fived after a good play all those years ago. I thought about how she was a fighter, both on and off the volleyball court. How, with tears, she had pulled me over to the side one day to tell me my dear friend had an addiction to prescription drugs. She wanted me to know the truth. Mostly, I so desperately wished I could have been with her just one more time.
“This sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness, that brings me to my knees.” *
We were asked to wear bright colors, teal specifically, since it signifies cervical cancer, the disease that took her. The family asked that the service be a celebration of life. But I couldn’t even celebrate much less think a coherent thought because I was just so terribly sad. They said she had been ready to go. She had been in unbearable pain. I wiped the tears from my eyes enough to watch the video montage. It physically hurt to look at those photographs flashing across the screen. I felt a piercing in my chest; I felt like I couldn’t properly hold air in my lungs.
“The sharp knife of a short life.” *
A few years ago, I heard a story that shocked me at the time. Apparently a woman, maybe in her late forties, had died unexpectedly. The minister, a family friend, went, reluctantly, to relay this bitter news to her elderly mother. Well, right there in front of his eyes, the mother had a heart attack and died. The horror of this story initially surprised me but then a few months ago my Pappaw almost had a heart attack at his own brother’s funeral. Perhaps emotions are more profoundly connected to the physical body than we acknowledge.
Anyway, at the memorial service, the minister who had gotten to know my friend pretty well through her battle with cancer, said that when her life was nearing the end, when she was very much in and out of consciousness, she would suddenly, just out of nowhere, start smiling ear to ear—beaming—even raising her arms and clapping her hands.
What is going on here? My mind raced at the thought.
“When Christ shall come
With shout of acclamation
And take me home
What joy shall fill my heart” *
Remember, in the fourth gospel, when the sisters sent a message to Jesus?
“Lord, he whom you love is ill.”
Jesus responds with an assuring word that Lazarus’ illness would not lead to death but rather to God’s glory and He takes his sweet time getting to Bethany. When He finally gets there Lazarus has already been in the tomb four days. “Lord,” Mary said, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus sees Mary and the others weeping over Lazarus, the text says He becomes greatly disturbed and deeply moved. The Greek verbs here are notoriously difficult; scholars puzzle over whether Jesus’ response here is an outburst of anger or a display of grief. Lots of them say Jesus is angry about the perpetual unbelief of Mary and the others. But then something happens. He asks Mary, “Where have you laid him?” Somewhere between where Mary had knelt at Jesus’ feet and Lazarus’ tomb Jesus began to weep.
Why was Jesus weeping?
Had the sadness overtaken Him all the sudden? Here, regardless of whether Jesus was angry about human unbelief or not, Jesus enters the madness of it all, the dizzying pain and confusion of human death. And the total despair of those He loved. Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. Maybe Jesus also wept, in part, because he knew His own death was very soon to come. Funerals remind us of our own condition too, that our bodies will indeed be defeated by death before they’re ultimately raised to new life.
At the end of the service last week when the precious family, a family who had been through so much heartbreak, arose to walk out before the rest of us, the father stopped and looked at all of us who were either crying or staring blankly. He suddenly motioned to the hundreds of us gathered in that sanctuary, and, he began to clap. I don’t know why he was clapping. Here we were at the memorial of this man’s beloved twenty-nine year old daughter and he was clapping.
“I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up… To more than I can be.” *
All I know is this gesture was one of the most moving things I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure how or why it all happened the way it did but we all joined in right with him. Clapping had never felt so good. Maybe we were clapping for Lindsey’s life or maybe we were clapping for life itself. Perhaps we were clapping for all the pain that her parents had to watch, endure, and even survive. Or then again, maybe we were just clapping because God had somehow allowed us to make it through the incredible sadness of that service alive. I suppose most of us were clapping because we still seemed to have some kind of miraculous and collective hope even after all of the dumbfounding and unspeakable suffering Lindsey had endured.
“Faith still creates miracles,” her family assured us.
My two friends and I left the funeral quietly, in something of a daze. But the three of us went out to lunch, nonetheless, and there we toasted our friend. We talked about how brave she was. How she never gave up her faith and how she never grew bitter. We spoke admiringly about how much she just simply loved human existence and how so often we worry about things that just don’t matter one bit. And I couldn’t help but think about the fictional main character, the Reverend John Ames, in Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead, who is dying from a heart condition in the narrative. Knowing he has only a short time left, Ames writes an account for his young son. At one point he says:
“I have been thinking about existence lately. In fact, I have been so full of admiration for existence that I have hardly been able to enjoy it properly . . . I feel sometimes as if I were a child who opens its eyes on the world once and sees amazing things it will never know any names for and then has to close its eyes again. I know this is all mere apparition compared to what awaits us, but it is only lovelier for that. There is a human beauty in it. And I can’t believe that, when we have all been changed and put on incorruptibility, we will forget our fantastic condition of mortality and impermanence, the great bright dream of procreating and perishing that meant the whole world to us. In eternity this world will be Troy, I believe, and all that has passed here will be the epic of the universe, the ballad they sing in the streets. Because I don’t imagine any reality putting this one in the shade entirely, and I think piety forbids me to try” (Marilynne Robinson, Gilead).
So the three of us talked and talked about how she really lived and courageously died. We spoke about how strange it felt to us that some of us die young and others of us just go right on living. I hadn’t really noticed until that moment but it turns out it was a uniquely beautiful day. Arguably one of the most beautiful days in Houston all year. I didn’t really even want it to be, honestly. I kind of wanted it to be dark, ugly, and muggy outside. Where was the rain, anyway? Instead, everything was dazzling like a thousand diamonds under a huge bright expanse. Low seventies, a tender breeze, clear skies, birds singing, butterflies dancing, everything blooming; the air everywhere was infused with fragrant magnolia. There in that moment, I couldn’t escape the downright beauty of it all, even if I had intended to.
_________________
Please note the quotations in italics with an asterisk following were all songs played at the memorial service (Angel by Sarah McLachlan, If I Die Young by The Band Perry, How Great Thou Art as performed by Carrie Underwood, and You Raise Me Up by Josh Groban).
In the last few months, I’ve thought how grief has taught me more about love than anything else I’ve experienced. Isn’t that odd? But so, so true.
My husband and I always seem to separate life into the befores an afters of a particular event. Surprisingly, we are more of a “we” now than we were in any of the befores. My willingness to see others is much more enhanced now–like taste buds that needed to be cultivated by a particular flavor.
Thanks for writing this. It was that one last push toward recognition for me.
Thank you for your reflections.
CrysHouse….Grief in all it’s sadness can open our eyes to life as nothing else we experience. I lost my husband last year to cancer; learning to live without him after 31 years has been spent thinking about life one day at a time and what is truly important. God blessed me with a precious grandaughter during this time…I think to remind me that He loves me so very much. Grief opens our eyes to the smallest things around us. I don’t want to miss one itty bitty thing.
Beautiful.
Such good words on courage and living and dying well.
I shouldn’t be commenting because I really don’t know what to say. Death of a loved one is excruciating, and to say I am so sorry seems somehow, shallow. But there is such joy in hearing how your friend smiled, raised her arms and clapped. Just reading that blessed me.
Blessings,
Adrienne
Thankyou for sharing, Melissa. Just this morning I was asking God WHY WHY WHAT WAS THE PURPOSE OF my mum getting 2 brain tumours, 2 invasive brain surgeries, never getting back to normal and suddenly dying at the oyoung age of 67??? Why do 7 children under 11 miss out on the loving adoration of their grandma?? I don’t know and I don’t understand!
Your words are very comforting. Thankyou
I’m so sorry about the loss of your Mom, Monica.
Next Wednesday will be one year since I lost my childhood best friend to a sudden and terrible four-wheeler accident. She was only 18 and a week away from graduating high school and pursuing a college degree in Vetinary medicine. I feel like you, Melissa, when I wish I could been with her one more time. I also lost my great aunt to cancer in the same week. To say that it was the worst week of my life would be an understatement. I found comfort in your words and through the peace Christ gives me each and every day!
Thank you so much for sharing this!
How can we know joy if we don’t know suffering.
Beautiful post……when it comes down to the end….it’s just you and Jesus….and He’s all you need…in life and in death…
True, Vanessa. Good to hear from you as always. Hope you’re well.
Beautiful comment Vanessa~so true!!
Beautifully written. Thank you, Melissa.
Thanks for reading along, Danielle.
You have written this very well. I felt and heard them clapping. The clapping is the best. I am just a somebody of no importance here in this little town. I was blessed in leading a funeral for a precious family member and at the end her husband stepped forward and with tears streaming he said my wife and I loved each other vey much. I called her every evening just before leaving the shop and this is what we sang to each other. He began to sing ( very off key, which made it even more beautiful)”I just called to say I love you. (at this his son and daughter join him tears streaming. they put thier arms around each other) “I just called to say how much I care. I just called to say I loove you. ( for this part of the chorus he sang very silly with a gruff voice)and I mean it from the bottom of my heart!” there was no eye left dry! I am writing this and i can promise this the song just started on the radio station we are listening to!! oh Lord!!
My high school buddy, Darryl Ehlich, passed away last week, as well. I’m older than you, Melissa, but even at 41 the passing of a high school friend is so terribly sad and almost shockingly surreal. He was openly a lover of Christ, and that does offer sweet consolation.
I’m naturally introspective, but this…THIS was almost overwhelmingly so for me. He had a heart attack…and just never came home. I simply cannot imagine. I went to high school with his wife, as well. My husband, David, actually graduated with her.
When we finally reached the receiving line and hugged Gina, Daryl’s wife, I thought my heart would push out of my chest. I just could not fathom that I was consoling a friend from high school over the death of her husband…also a friend from high school. Their daughter, Christian, was only 19. As I looked at Christian, I must admit the horror of knowing that the Lord’s time may be before my youngest, who’s only eight years old, ever reaches that age was so crushing that I’ve had to pray about that fear quite a few times since that moment. It almost makes me nauseous typing it.
I can’t get Gina, Daryl’s wife, off my mind. I keep thinking that when all the dust settles…she’s alone with closets to clean out and sweet memorabilia that he’s no longer there to share with her. I keep thinking how my husband’s scent lingers in his closet…will she smell those familiar smells, too, even though he’s no longer there? They had been together since they were both younger than their daughter. It makes me so sad. Daryl was a Chiropractor…I think of his patients and his staff. He went hunting last week, and never came back at the age of 40.
Thank you for sharing your sorrow and your heart. We don’t mourn as the world mourns, but it still hurts so much.
Wow, Kristi, I’m so sorry to hear this but I appreciate you sharing your heart. Yes, it is surreal to lose a high school friend & even though we don’t mourn without hope it does still hurt so very much. I will pray for Gina.
Melissa,
It is a hard lesson to learn but death teaches us how to love better. Never let a friend or family member leave your presence without telling them you love them. Love well. I pray Jesus sends comfort your way.
Thank you for sharing your heartache Melissa. Death for us can be so heart-breaking. We lost my father-in-law about a year and a half ago…and life move forwards, but very painfully sometimes. I’m learning that grief takes on so many different shapes and form and places for each of us, its so unique to each of us in our circumstance. Our oldest is graduating in about a month, and she has had such heart-wrenching grief, because Grandpa won’t be there…. Just like the birth of our 4th child this past September, almost a year after his passing to the very date, was so bittersweet…we look at our sweet baby boy and say so often…”You know…your Grandpa would have adored you so much!”
My family has endured so much loss, it was my brothers birthday on the 26th of April, and I remember thinking…have we really been without him on this earth for 21 years….oh the time has flown…but the heartache ebbs and flows with life…sometimes it just drops you to your knees…and other days it has you laughing at some really good memories!
Thanks for sharing,
Andrea
Loved reading some of your thoughts about grief and loss, Andrea. Thanks for taking the time to read along and share from your own life.
Melissa,
I loved your words sharing from your heart. Thank you! Mourning with hope is the best place to be….but it is such a hard place to be. Losing someone you care so much about or loving and caring for the ones left behind is heart-wrenching at times. Thank you for sharing this experience and your thoughts!
Thank you for sharing….absolutely beautiful.
thank you, Melissa, for reminding me (who graduated from high school 40 years ago this month) how strong those friendships created in our teen years are. You have inspired me to try to get my class together this summer. All 15 of us!
So very sorry, precious girl. Truly, deeply. Do you think this is our soul/spirit groaning? Knowing something is desperately Wrong. Death wasn’t supposed to happen. Is this God’s timepiece of eternity wound in our hearts, rebelling at what is Not supposed to be?
I, too have heard different theological explanations for Jesus’ weeping in John 11. I believe rather firmly that is was His gut-level response to seeing Mary’s grief-feeling her pain-entering into it with her. I also believe He enters into your pain with you, Melissa. Feeling it’s edge, knowing it’s penetrating fog.
I’m again grateful you sought to articulate what you’re going through. I’ve never known anything so hard to convey as grief. Thank you for paying that price.
Thanks, Kathy. And I like your take on the John 11 text! xo
Dear Melissa,
I am so sorry for your loss. I totally agree that grief physically impacts a body!
Thank you for sharing! You works are always a treat to read!
Jennifer
Melissa, I lost one of my dearest high school friends when we were 20. She was getting ready to leave on a mission trip the next day. I’ve thought about her many times since then (I am now 43) and I’ve often wondered – who was the fortunate one? Not that my life has been bad – I’ve been richly blessed and, although I’ve had bad things happen, I have tried to live the victorious Christian life. But she got to see Jesus and the Mom she never really knew. And I am confident she heard the words “Well done, good and faithful servant!” It is right to be sad (as Jesus was with Lazarus) but we do not mourn as those who have no hope. We shall see our friends again if they are believers! Praise be to our God!!
Melissa
I am sitting here in my car waiting for the A/C to cool the inside. I decided to go ahead and read your post right here in the store parking lot. Now, having read it I must wait for my eyes to dry. Wow. I am so sorry sweetie that you lost a friend at such a young age. Your writing about your experience must have released a certain amount pain that can only be expressed sometimes in written word.
Thank you for sharing in a beautiful way.
Thanks for reading along, Lynn. Writing definitely helps me process.
I really appreciate your thoughts and am so sorry for your loss. In 2012 I have seen two young people diagnosed with terminal cancer. It is incredibly heart breaking. When my grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s I was most definitely saddened, but so comforted by the fact that she has led a wonderful and long life.
Quality or quantity…I want to live a rich life no matter how long. Embrace each day. Thanks for the reminder.
Thanks for these insightful words, Laurie. All my best.
Melissa,
Please accept my sympathy in the lost of your dear friend.
The words in your blog were beautiful to read.
Clapping in rememberence of your sweet, young friend who is hugging Jesus now.
Jennifer
melissa,
Let me just say how profoundly sorry I am for you for the loss of a dear friend. It is so hard to say goodbye to anyone who is young! I lost a very dear friend when I was 17, and the pain was excruciating. I also remember in the months that followed feeling almost overwhelmed with grief. I was a Christian, but not very committed. One night as I lay there, I heard the LORD Speak right into my heart “I’m here if you want me”. It was the beginning for me, and all these many years later I still remember that.
I am in a different place right now. I take care of my mother in law who is 91 and wants SO badly to go home to the LORD. her husband died last year and she is tired of living. I go to her house daily to feed her and encourage her. It is not an easy thing to do. She does not want to get out of bed, or read, or go for a walk. I get frustrated wanting so much for her to enjoy her days. the Lord encourages me daily to just love her and never stop trying to give her life. In whatever way I can. This is my assignment for this chapter in my life. This life is so very temporary and we do not know what the LORD has planned for us there, but we know it will be good. I do not blame my mother in law for wanting to go home to Jesus. but the LORD has planted firmly in my mind that we are to LIVE (Zoe) life in him!
so I really enjoyed your post and I appreciate you sharing this very private pain with all of us.
Heidi
Heidi, I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you. I will pray for you both as you care for your mother-in-law. May God refresh her spirit & yours too. Love.
I was just out helping the guys brand a bunch of calves, and was thinking about one of the losses I’ve had in the last 6 months. His name was Liam and he lost his 2 year fight with leukemia in October. He was only 21, and one of my 8th grade English students. He then became one of our summer hired-hands, and was always willing to come help when we were calving, or harvesting, or branding. I couldn’t help but think of him today while we were working. He too had an infectious laugh and was always looking for the bright side, even when a bunch of cows broke out of the corral, or he had to get down in the mud and manure to wrestle a calf into the chute.
Most of the time, the days just go by, but once in a while a very stark and vivid memory happens by, and the impact of his loss in our lives and the lives of his family is poignant once again. My whole family’s lives are richer for his influence, but a little empty because of his death. We are hopeful for a reunion someday, and in the mean time, we just try to mark those fleeting memories by remembering his contagious grin and infectious laughter.
In this life we will have trouble, but take heart; He has overcome the world! John 16:33
Melissa–
This was a very touching post, thanks for sharing. I lost my mother to cancer, she was 51 (too young) and I was in my twenties. I will never forget the talks we were able to have before her passing. She said that we would be grieving for ourselves and not for her. What a testimony of knowing you will pass from this life to the splendor of Heaven.
Thank you so much for these comforting words. I’m in highschool, and my 17 year old friend just died in a car accident. It’s so hard. But this blog post has helped me, thanks!
Kate, I’m so sorry. We will pray for you as you endure this unexpected loss. Love, Melissa
So beautifully expressed, Melissa, and what a tribute to your friend! The Gilead quotation is marvelous – it’s going to take me a while to process it fully.
Thank you for sharing your pain and praise alike.
Love you to & the LPM family.
Thanks, Missy. Have you read Gilead? xo
No, but after seeing that snippet, I am putting it on my short list. I am caught up in Leif Enger’s Peace Like a River after seeing your mom’s reference to it in the Q&A. So good.
I think you’ll like it! Slow, kind of like the one you’re reading now, but a good slow and well worth it in the end. I enjoyed Peace Like a River too. Blessings on you, girl.
Thanks, Melissa. Same to you!
Melissa, I’m so sorry for the loss of your friend and for the profound suffering preceding it. Thank you for sharing your heart so honestly and insightfully.
Melissa,
I have been to the LPM blog in forever and today, on a whim, decided to take a look. What a total “GOD-incidence”!
Your beautiful writing and the emotions that you so effortlessly described was just what I needed to let go and just cry. Crying for your young friend, her family, her friends, you….and for me. I lost my bestfriend suddenly without having a chance to say goodbye. But, if we have eternal life, and I know we do, then she just moved into another place beyond the veil of our all too human eyes. And though it is a better place…still we mourn, but “not as those who have no hope”. Thank you, Melissa! You are a beautiful and expressive as always!
Melissa, you are your Mother’s daughter! More importantly you are the daughter of the MOST HIGH and this post has ushered me into His Presence with grateful tears at His Holiness and His perfect love and even the beauty in the death of we His children. Thank you.
Melissa,
Thank you for sharing your heart. Such a rich reflection of your friend’s life. I love the clapping part…and I totally get it. When my Dad died in February, although there was immense pain (and it still comes and goes), there was such a deep rejoicing. God was so there with me…very tangible and spoke clearly as He led me through the valley I had not yet walked in. Being with my Dad as he breathed his last breath, as his heart beat for the last time, and knowing he was being ushered into the presence of the One who rescued and redeemed us both.. was unspeakably beautiful. God was so faithful to redeem my Dad’s life even in his death. So faithful. My husband felt like God was going to speak a scripture at the time of his death and asked what book. The Lord said Hebrews. He died at 13:14 (the machines/monitors were military time). The next day my husband looked this up:
Hebrews 13:14 “For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come.” Glory!
Thanks for these beautiful thoughts, Nicole. I don’t think I realized that your Dad died so recently. How special that you were able to be with him as he breathed his last breath. What a sacred moment. And that Hebrews text is wonderful, isn’t it?
Melissa I’m terribly sorry for your loss. Being a preacher’s daughter I was introduced to death at a early age. I was 6 when a little boy at the age of 4 was diagnosied with lukemia and died at the age of 5. I remember my Daddy coming home from the hospital where he visited this little boy and his parents. One day before this little guy went on to be with Jesus he had been asleep and woke up while Dad was there and he told them of a vision of Heaven, he detailed it down to the gold streets as if Jesus had come got him and gave him a glimpse of where he was going, my Dad wept that night telling us of his vision but he said the boy was laughing and excited, he died a couple of days later. I will never forget that story and it brought joy to the parents devastaded over the loss of their child but he told them he would be waiting for them to arrive one day. Maybe that experience brought me to hospice nursing, I do believe God called me to do this and I almost see death daily doing inpatient care. I have held them as infants and held them at a ripe old age, I have prayed for them and with their family. The ones that know God as their personal Lord even with all the pain, they smile and have a peace that passes all understanding. I do see them raise their hands and move their lips as if speaking to someone we can’t see. I just hope that when it comes my time to depart that I go with as much grace as my patients. It’s not those that have gone on that grieve its those of us left behind. I whispered in my Mothers ear just a few short months ago to go on to be with the Lord and when I get there I’ll find her after I meet the Master. I wept when Mom died but she is rejoicing and that gives me comfort, I hope knowing that about your friend gives you some comfort. God Bless you Melissa and I’ll be praying for you and her family.
What a touching post Melissa – thank you for sharing. I am so thankful that your friend was a believer and entered into His presence as she passed into Eternity – at the same time, it is so sad for all of those she left behind who must carry on without her. My sincere sympathy.
Thank you for sharing the book, Gilead.
Although the Gilead is fiction, it was a great help when I had to deal with the loss of a dream in my family.
My dad was confirmed dead (age 57) before coming back to life. He was able to testify & share about his vision of the “LIGHT” before the church. It is an audio story that has left a legacy for our family.
I recommend the following book for others dealing with loss.
Roses in December: Finding Strength Within Grief
Marilyn Willett Heavilin
With love & “HEAVEN BOUND” blessings,
Kim
Thanks for the book recommendation, Kim. I sure hope you are well! xo
Thank you sweet Melissa,
I am trying really hard to get well.
Health prayers are truly appreciated!
We are having the memorial service for my aunt tomorrow, a wonderful missionary who loved God and was fearless in death. I hope I can do God the honor of being fearless in death too.
Also, before my grandmother (who loved God better than anyone I’ve known) passed-she did THE SAME THING your friend did. Even in her deteriorated state, arms out-strenched, huge smile, then back to sleeping. It happend twice before she went. I know beyond all doubt she was seeing Heaven.
How amazing! Wow. Thanks for sharing these personal stories! Hope the memorial service for your aunt is a sweet and sacred time for you and all those who loved her. All my best.
Lovely post. Thank you for sharing.
Melissa,
Let me first say how sorry I am for the loss of your friend. Thank you so much for trusting us in Siestaville to share your thoughts and feelings with through this time of grief. We love you so much!
I just got home from Session 4 of the Esther Study with your sweet mama. Something she pointed out today was that the most common command in the entire Bible is: Do not be afraid! I was thinking about how we (collectively) fear death and how that verse from How Great Thou Art was so comforting to me in dealing with the deaths of my mom, 10 years ago, and my dad, just this February. Who can be afraid of Jesus coming to take them home!? What joy shall fill my heart! Thanks for reminding me of that today.
“When Christ shall come
With shout of acclamation
And take me home
What joy shall fill my heart”
Melissa,
It does feel like we could drown in grief at times. (((HUGS)))
We were called home last July because my Mom was dying. I’m so grateful for that last week with her. At one point (as I stayed with her at night in the comfort care suite in the hospital), she said, “You know, I see people.” I told her that was normal. Later she said emphatically, “Deb, I see three people.” I asked her if she recognized anyone and she said, “Yes, three people I might have known.”
I’d read Glimpses of Heaven by a hospice nurse, Trudy Harris, about a month and a half before that. I’m so grateful that God prepared my heart for this experience so that I could encourage her and let her know it was normal that she should see beyond the scope of this world in her last days.
About a minute before she died, the lump that had been in my heart since we first got the call disappeared. I held my own breath as she took her last two breaths and was carried to her new Home in the arms of Jesus. It was a privilege to be there as Heaven opened its doors to welcome her and as she was carried there.
One Easter morning, I lay in bed so crushed under the weight of grief, I found I was unable to even move my foot out from under the covers and put it on the floor. In a nine-month span we had lost my my mother-in-law and then my dad. My father-in-law had almost died of a heart attack, and had later been diagnosed with Allzheimer’s. Our lives had revolved around hospitals, funeral parlors and cemetaries for a little over a year. Easter was a holiday my dad dearly loved, and this was our first without him. As I lay there before the Lord, asking Him to help me find the strength and courage to sit up and get through the day, He spoke 5 words into my heart: “My tomb is still empty.”. What a precious reminder! No matter how many more memorial services we would attend or graves we would stand over, Christ’s tomb would still be empty. His victory over death is a permanent one, and it’s our victory too!
I’m so sorry, Melissa, for the loss of your friend. Death is such a wrenching away, because we were created for eternity. She has left a deep wake of grief behind, but also an amazing legacy of courage, faith, and hope. The tomb is still empty. We can all smile and clap our hands, even as the tears stream down our faces.
Melissa – I am so sorry for the loss of your young friend. It always seems harder and more tragic when young people die. We always feel as if they were somehow cut short. After completing the study of James last week, the “life is but a vapor” verse (4:14) has STAYED with me. The passage doesn’t say just young people’s lives are puffs of smoke, but rather than “life is but a mist” (Amplified). I have sure mulled that over when I get aggravated or out of sorts with things (and people).
The greatest tragedy my family has ever experienced was the death of my sister Jean when she was only 25 years old. She was killed instantly in a car accident on July 19, 1985. I was 27 years old. This July will be 27 years since she died. That means I’ve lived as long without her as I did with her. There are days I cry like it just happened, and the scent of Lauren cologne can just about do me in. (Some days I will go to the perfume counter and spray some on just to “have her near.”) Then there are times where my Mom and two younger sisters Joan and Jo will laugh our heads off at a fun memory. Thank God for laughter (and clapping).
I wrote a tribute to Jean on my blog on the 25th anniversary of her death that has been read more than any post I’ve ever written. I posted lots of pictures too! http://granjansjoy.blogspot.com/2010/08/she-lived-25-yearsshes-been-gone-25.html
My sister Jean had a daughter who was one month shy of 2 years old when her momma was killed. My niece Amy is the “spitting image” of her momma and sometimes when I look at her and she laughs or dances around in the kitchen and acts just like the woman who didn’t get the chance to raise her, I thank God for the JOY she brings to us.
As always, I thank you Melissa for your poignant writing. You are such a sweetheart to me. I love you!
~Mrs. Jan
Mrs. Jan,
I enjoyed reading your response to Melissa’s post and I’m going to read that blog post you mentioned. I’m so sorry about your sister. Once death hits a loved one, I believe those left behind are forever changed. For me, it’s the death of my Daddy. He died 11years ago and I miss him EVERYDAY. Blessings to you!
Shelly xo
Dear Melissa,
What a beautiful post about your feelings of mourning a friend’s untimely death. Tears sting my eyes and threaten to spill onto the screen as I type this but I just had to say thank you for sharing. Death is such a sobering topic yet you shared the beauty that you found on that day of profound sadness. I think her Dad clapping at the end was so poignant. That sweet girl fought the good fight and finished the race. I picture our Heavenly Father clapping as he told her “Well done, my good and faithful servant” as she ran right into His open arms.
Bless you for your leadership and authenticity. You are a mighty fine writer and I always enjoy reading what you have on your heart to share with us.
Clapping,
Shelly
Thank you for your beautiful words. This evening, I will go to the wake of my 76 year old great-aunt and watch my 81 year old grandmother mourn the loss of her sister and best friend. Your words are a comfort, to know that death is something that we all struggle with. I truly think it can be a beautiful thing, though, if a life is well-lived. God bless!
I’m so sorry Melissa! Twenty-nine is just too young – it’s my daughter’s age & I can’t imagine life without her.
Something happened in my life last week that for just a few hours had me thinking the very thing you wrote….”how so often we worry about things that just don’t matter one bit.” Later the news I was awaiting was good, but it could have gone a total different direction and I thought about so many things that I’ve been worrying about and stewing over and frankly, they don’t even pale over what was happening that day in my life.
Thank you for this beautiful post & I will be keeping Lindsey’s family & loved ones in my prayers.
That was beautiful and a great testimony to the love God has for us and for Lindsey.
I have never heard of an ovation (clapping) following a funeral. How poignant- and appropriate on all levels- that it was her Dad who started it. Maybe it was his way of saying, “well done, baby girl!” – to applaud her for all of the happiness her life brought him and so many others in that room. I think I love that.
Good, good post, Melissa. Well-written and heartfelt.
Sorry to hear about your loss Melissa but thank you so much for sharing. This entry really put life into perspective for me. When you realize how short life is it really is sad how much time we spend on things that don’t matter at all.
Even Jesus cried, “Why” and I think we will find our answer in Him and in His love. Death is ugly, yet in
another way it is what saves us and keeps us clinging
to God. Jesus felt free to commit His Spirit into the
Father’s hands_in total confidence_in faith. He shares
in both suffering and in joy with us.
If we knew all the answers we would be God. He is there to comfort us, to love us and to share with us.
It is not easy to watch our loved ones or friends suffer, but we learn compassion, we learn to go to God during those times, and we learn to love. His ways and His thoughts are higher than ours, we cannot try to limit God to our concept of what is loving care from Him and what is not. He says…I am with you always.
Melissa,
Beautiful post and I am sorry your friend passed away. There are times my heartaches for some of the family
members and loved ones that I have known and are gone,
yet each time I seem to learn that God is faithful, He
is there and He understands.
…yes, God deserves all the honor and glory even a hand clap. It reminds of when Jesus hanging from the cross, but clinging to His Heavenly Father. in Christ
You described the pain of grief so eloquently. It really does feel like one’s heart is going to burst from it. My dear friend’s 16 year old son was killed by a drunk driver last year. He was known for his love of life and for his devotion to the Lord. For some reason, had told someone at school that he wanted his funeral to be a celebration. He wanted everyone in bright colors! I went to the funeral so dumbfounded. I had no words of comfort other than “I love you, and I’m so sorry.” The strength God gave those parents that day strengthened MY faith. The Lord was honored and lifted up. I will never forget seeing them worship with lifted hands as they sang the words, “Jesus conquered the grave!”
This post came at such perfect timing…just another reminder of God’s hand at work.
My husband and I learned today of a friend’s husband who passed away last night. He was in his early thirties and has left behind a wife and young son. Our hearts are breaking for this family. Life isn’t fair and it can be really tough. But God IS good.
When you mentioned that your friend would raise her arms and clap near the end of her life, it brought back memories of my mom when she was dying – I felt this overwhelming peace that she was completely content to be leaving this world and entering the gates of Glory. It was almost like she had a glimpse of where she was going and just couldn’t wait to get there!
Jennifer, I am so sorry to hear about this news. May the Lord be so very present with this young Mom and son. I pray for tender mercies. And what a sweet story about your Momma! xo
Melissa, you are an amazing person and a wonderful writer. Thank you for sharing.
Sorry to hear of your loss.
I have a girlfriend (59) with stage 4 colon cancer…fighting with all her might, and us all praying for God’s deliverance!
Grief is hard…GOD is Good!
Thank you for sharing such a tender moment.
Melissa,
Thank you for your insightful and moving thoughts. I have a dear friend, 50 years old & single mom to 3 girls. She was going to Nursing school to make a better life for her family. She was diagnosed with a brain tumor in July. Since then she had brain surgery, chemo & radiation. She has opted out of having further chemo. Her faith is so incredibly strong and this is evident in each daughter.
We don’t know what the future holds for her but He does. The thought of her leaving behind a 19, 17 & 13 year old is more than I can bear!! She has given me the incredible privilege of walking alongside her in this journey. Wow, what an honor.
She and girls spent Christmas Day with our family. We intentionally chose not to exchange gifts (at suggestion of my 19 yr old), but to buy gifts for them. Let me testify that it was the BEST Christmas we ever had!!
Please pray for Kellie as she faces a hard road. She has had to be TOTALLY dependent on Jesus for EVERYTHING, including food, housing, cars, medical bills, etc. I am so grateful that the Body of Christ has come along side her.
With Love & Gratitude,
Michelle