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).
Could it be Jesus was crying over having to raise Lazarus? Jesus knew where Lazarus was and bringing him back to this world of pain…..man that would be hard to do. Someone asked Ms. Beth who she would like to eat lunch with, well I for one would choose Lazarus after he was raised from the dead. I would LOVE to know the story he told his sisters!
Dear Melissa, I saw your tweet about your friend’s funeral and it hit home to me as I am not much younger at 27. I read your post and had to put it down when I came to the part where you described her smiling, raising her arms and clapping. I got chills. I want that; today, tomorrow, forever. To love Jesus that much and be that excited to see Him is just so unbelievably sweet and almost romantic, surreal. I am no stranger to grief and loss and death of loved ones. Growing up it was almost a joke that I went to more funerals than weddings. I’ll admit, I didn’t know some of them well, but it taught me to appreciate life and remember to tell people I love them before they die. Relationships are precious to me as a result. It had to be a gift from God to have stood at caskets because life then became real to me. Life for my family and me became really real 1 1/2 years ago when we brought my grandpa home with us and took care of him until he died. He LOVED IT!! and it was the most excrutiating thing we have ever been thru as a family. My mom and I were with him when he died and it was s sweet to be there. To this day I call it a privilege. Death and grief expand you and show you life. I love how you described it for you and your friends, you tasted of life as you toasted to hers. There is something incredibly sweet about death of believing loved ones, and even maybe in just death as Jesus ministers to our very souls and takes care of us as we grieve. I agree with the lady who posted about her belief that He entered grief with the sisters and just cried over it all with them. At the funeral for my grandma 8 years ago, the pastor prayed that the Lord would help us in our grief and grieve with us. It helped me so much to think God was that personal. Thank you for sharing your grief and your story. I just had to comment as I can relate so well. Let it grow you and change you, it should. Oh and interesting that most of the songs you posted are in my iTunes, and I heard You Raise Me Up (Selah) just today and thought how sweet it is when God shows up when we need Him, I love it!!! God bless you!!
Oh, Melissa- what a remarkable post- I am sitting here (an old Siesta) who has sons age 19 and 32 – I can hardly bear the sorrow you and your friends have suffered due to the loss of your friend. When I thought about the song, If I Die Young, it just bit into my soul- I can only imagine the grief and sorrow of this precious child’s family
Thank you for writing this post, you put into words what so many of us have no words to express- We LOVE YOU and appreciate you!
I just listened to session 3 of the James study you and your mom did…today! Anguish and joy can coexist. They can trade places. The source of anguish can morph into joy and it is meant to lead to a birth of sorts.
I lost my only sister when she was 50 and experienced such anguish, but God healed me in His time. It is only in looking back sometimes that we see how He turned it into a part of our individual faith story.
Aww…what a special post. Such Glory awaits us. When I’ve lost someone close I reflect on what may be happening in heaven,and what faith has been made evident through eyes that now see Truth. Oh what these testimonies do to my soul, my life, my emotions. It gives strength and kind of a ah ha…A week ago my pastor made a statement that has stayed with me, “age only tells how long you’ve been on the road, not how far down the road you’ve traveled.” In his sermon this statement referred to wisdom and maturity in faith, and believing God. Sounds like your precious friend was farther down life’s road of wisdom and understanding than many who are farther along in years. Thank you Melissa for turning our thoughts to home. Smile, I want to leave earth clapping too!
Beautiful. The clapping…and from her father. I can’t even let my mind go there.
Melissa,
I saw you tweet this and I want you to know I immediately stopped and prayed for you. And for what it is worth, I am terribly sorry for your loss.
Glory to Jesus, the giver of eternal life.
~Allison
aka @the4leegirls
It’s been almost 5 years since we lost our 34 year old son. I’m now walking each day with my sister as she battles lung cancer. Her incredible strength and attitude astounds me day after day. We only had a few days to realize we were losing our son, my sister was diagnosed 7 months ago. I will spend a week with her next week as she has to go out of town for radiation therapy. Please pray with me that the Lord will bless this time to minister His Word and His Love to her. She prayed for salvation shortly after her diagosis.
I sit here with tears brimming my eyes. For you and your incredible loss. For the news I received yesterday, that my best friend will face chemotherapy for the third time in four years for a beast that stalks her, at least in her mind, almost daily. (Ovarian cancer.) She is a gorgeous 45 year old mom of three. She is a wife. She is a friend. She is a servant. And while this time it’s at the microscopic level, my mind cant help but go to next time…she is my best friend. She is amazing, and tonight, she is preparing herself for battle. Again. I’ve never loved her more.
sounds like a life well-lived and a beautiful way to go out with applause and butterflies 🙂
Thank you, Melissa, for being real and sharing your grief in such an eloquent way. It’s nice to have a way to live out our faith and be real with one another as siestas even though we’ve never met. I’m still grieving my Dad’s death and it’s been two and a half years. Being single, he was the man in my life I depended on, was my spiritual leader and the kindest, wisest person. His passing has left a huge hole in my life as death does to everyone who loses a loved one. I don’t think we ever get past the grief to some degree because death is not how it’s supposed to be. I’m so glad that Christ defeated death on the cross – just can’t wait for the reality of it when we’re with Him for eternity. Big hugs to you as you grieve.
I am so sorry for your loss and at such a young age. Thank you for sharing. Hugs for you. I have a dear friend of over 20 years that found out her husband has ALS. He has declined rapidly in the last year. Life is so fragile. Handle with prayer. I know that sharing grief is a comfort. What a wonderful friend you are, and a special daughter. Your parents are truly blessed. May God comfort you in your sorrow.
Thanks for sharing Melissa. I love the way you write and I’ve always enjoyed your Greek insights. I’m out of seminary doing CPE at a level II trauma center and I see a lot of death. I mostly watch others in pain but even if it’s not my personal pain death is a punch in the gut. I’m so sorry but I’m grateful you took the time to share your feelings. I needed to read your thoughts, blessings to you.
Melissa, I’m sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing! You are a blessing!! Love, kimberly
Whew. I think you wrote this post by the grace of GOD. You have the gift of writing…thank you for sharing this. God bless you.
Melissa, what a timely gift your reflections and words are. Thank you for offering them to this community. Even in the midst of such sorrow and confusion, your words bring LIFE. I am praying for you over this loss. I also am hopeful that we will “hear” more from you…I can’t begin to tell you how much God uses YOUR words and perspective in my life. May His Grace and Peace cover you.
I love this so much Melissa. Thank you. This weekend I grieved for the loss of someone so near to me. This weekend marked 5 years without them. And I struggled with feeling the grief and as I bawled I wondered if I was being dramatic for still being so sad. And then on Monday morning as I bawled I remembered the verse in John, where it says “Jesus Wept”. And in that moment I was so grateful for the fact that Jesus knew my pain. Needless to say, your blog was so encouraging and timely—especially since you used the exact passage I have been comforted by. Blessings and thank you!
Melissa, my sincerest sympathy. I am so sorry for your loss.
This post couldn’t have come at a more appropriate time considering my present circumstances… My grandmother, the woman who led me to Christ, is dying in a hospice hospital room right now. And though she is 87 and has lived a full life, I will miss her so. Your verses and songs mean the world to me.
Beautifully written and shared, thank you for allowing us to journey with you in this loss.
It’s been just days since my mother-in-law died. She was the most loving, encouraging woman I’ve ever known and had just turned 59. Reading this gave me comfort in that terribly sad way of knowing that yes!, someone gets it. Someone has felt what I’m feeling and recently, too. This death has caused me to *feel* that mine will come someday, and I’m heartbroken about the pain I’ll leave behind, and the feeling of a silent clock ticking. Thanks for writing.
Dear Melissa,
How appropriate this post when we are facing this with our sweet 38 yr old son. Brian is a long term survivor of a rare leukemia and has uncontrolled seizures. One night when the ambulance left here for the second time in a week’s time I was not sure we would see him alive when we reached the hospital. He has always had learning differences exacerbated by cranial radiation and now 30 yrs out he is developing problems because of the radiation. We said goodby to him as he left for Mayo this AM at 4:30 and he is resting comfortably. We pray for his recovery. Right now he has gone from a fully functional person to someone we can not safely communicate with. Mayo may need to do brain surgery in the next days. Our daughter is with him now and we are leaving soon to be with them there. Brain is not afraid to leave this earth and be with Jesus as we have prepared him for this since he was 9 yrs old. The worst thing would be if he needs to be in a long term nursing facility. Really there are much worse things than dying. Sorrow is so bitter sweet but we are hanging on to our faith and His strong right arm for strength to get through this. Betty M
Dear Betty,
I will be praying for Brian, you and your family! My dear son had a brain injury from birth and eventually died from the effects of a massive seizure. My heart goes out to you!
May God continue to give you peace and comfort and strength that He alone can give!
( I wish I could hug you)
Pat
When going through the storms of life it is amazing how one can sense the prayers and hugs of others!..I am so grateful. Brian is doing much better on a heavy steroid treatment at St Mary’s. He may be discharged in afew days the DRs are still telling us how very rare his case is. He had that very rare leukemia 30 yrs ago and to be surviving this long and doing is well as he has is truly unbelievable. He may be discharged later this coming week and have to under go some rehab for several days but should regain most of his function back. We are blessed!
This was beautiful. Thank you.
Thanks. In a way that I struggle to understand illness and pain can draw us to the Lord in a very intimate and real way. I was very sick for a couple years. I’m 31 now. Had my entire colon removed just before my 30th birthday. I have a young daughter (she’s soon to be 7). I’m alone. No husband. Family (what there is of family) 400 miles away. I had to work. And I was dying. But I had placed my trust in Jesus 3 years before diagnosis. And in that time of illness found no other real place of strength. Wish I could say that I rejoiced as your friend did. I was scared out of my mind. But Jesus gave me the go. One more day. I did then what I couldn’t do again. What I sure couldn’t have done then without him. And in email posts and devotional thoughts I pointed a lot of (christian) people to him.
I was given life. And funny thing is now I find that that that intimacy (dependence) is a thing I look back on almost fondly. I wouldn’t want to go back to it again…the pain. But that Jesus was WITH me–because in physical health its a little easy to forget.
Wish we would so easily HAVE to depend on him for emotional healing and other things. But I know I for one struggle more to give those things to Him fully. Not that I don’t trust, but habit of years has often become so deeply part of who I am that its hard to know what parts are me and what are wounded and in need of giving to him. If that can be understood. For I know that all of me is his and to be given to him…
Anyway–to the young who suffer harsh illness and untimely death–and do it graciously–praise to the one who makes it possible to suffer graciously. Knowing that it is but a moment in forever.
I am so sorry for the earthly loss of this beautiful woman, and so thrilled for the heavenly gain.
I wanted to let you know our pastor just did a sermon on pain and referenced a bunch of medical studies that prove how emotional pain can cause literal heartbreak…how the heart (and cardiopulmonary systems) physically change with emotional pain. It was so very interesting.
MMF, thx for the post. so sorry about your friend.
i really like that song IF I die young by Perry band.
Ps. 116 Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints.
So glad your papaw survived the heartbreak of his bruddah death. wowo..
last year 2011 i attended 9 funerals of close fam or friends and 3 of my patients that i have cared for as a home health care worker. my sister, sister in law too.
I made it last year by God’s GRACE and only that. no one
understands when people grieve unless they have grieved themself.
also while Jim and i and James and Jordan lived in Saudi Arabia
i really did not think I would come back home, to California
or Texas alive. but peeps like your mom and a couple of close friends were praying Jim and myself back alive. bc
Melissa when you see beheadings like i saw like a weekly occurence at the town hall, it can crazy your mind and it is
gut wrenching for a trival reason. these men were beheaded for pornography or for drinking alcohol or social vices. I thank God for griefshare programs and good strong counsel at HFBC and Second Bapt for me to be able to put one foot in front of the other.
Jesus bless you today. take care of your beautiful heart Melissa. you are precious. happy nat’l day of prayer too
Suey
I cannot begin to tell you the timeliness of this post. Just this past weekend, a girl my son went to high school with was shot and killed by her boyfriend. She was only 24.
I didn’t know her, but my son did and saw her frequently where he works.
The tears are stinging my eyes as I type this. Someday death’s sting will be no more!
Beautiful post, Melissa. Grief, longing, sorrow, contentment – hard emotions but there is joy in the experience.
I had a good friend die a couple years ago .. Only 31 years old, on the day she have birth to her 4th child! I understand your grief … The hope of heaven is the glue holding us all together.
This scripture was shared when she passed …
“Good people pass away;
the godly often die before their time.
But no one seems to care or wonder why.
No one seems to understand
that God is protecting them from the evil to come.” (Isaiah 57:1 NLT)
That was a beautiful message, Melissa.
Melissa,
Your post brought me to tears. My study group just finished the book by Randy Alcorn on Heaven; and although it was certainly encouraging to focus on Heaven, there was a certain bittersweet element to it as well. Your words pretty much summed it up for me. Life is a gift to be enjoyed and appreciated. There is no getting around the sadness death brings. Praising God for knowing he will one day wipe away every tear.
Thank you for sharing.
Wow for some reason that helped me although my daughter is very much alive and battling a rare blood disease. She presently have 7 blood clots in her right arm and one broke through and went to her lungs. It has been a strange thing have a child be ill for 16 of her 18 years. Someone said to me yesterday they did not understand God in all of this and what his plan was in watching Alexanderia suffer as she does. I don’t have an answer either. This morning her gums started bleeding for no reason. Needless to say it scared us and her doctor literally calls and texts Alexanderia through out the day. One thing a lifelong illness does is it does make people reach way down deep and it places them in our shoes for some reason and the out pouring of even the office staff to the hospital cleaning lady is touching. BTW the is Alexanderia’s favorite song by The Band Perry. She told me should she die she wanted it played at her funeral. Not something mom wants to hear. I love what your friends Father did. Celebrating her life, applauding her struggle and ultimately her home going. Thank you for sharing this Melissa.
Michelle
What a beautiful story. Imagining your friend smiling, knowing God – in all of His glory – could be right there calling her home is too much. You have such a beautiful way of describing details and displaying emotion through your writing…I’m confident the Lord smiles down on you as well, sister. That you for sharing. What an amazing impact your friend had on so many…may we all leave such a legacy, in His name!
Grief is a profoundly complex emotion, is it not? My friend from the womb lost her father 2 weeks ago – no warning, no illness – he simply just did not wake up. We are your age, Melissa – barely 29. Although I’ve known my friend for our entire lives, I did not interact with her father much, since her parents divorced when we were 2.
Still, I CANNOT pull out of this grief I feel for her. I cannot imagine. I have cried for her for two weeks straight. And thinking of my own dad and if that had been me? No. No way. Not even. In fact, I announced to my parents that they had just better decide and get used to the idea that they were going in the rapture with me – because I am not living on this earth without them.
I am so sorry for the loss of your friend. While a necessary emotion, grief takes its toll. May the Holy Spirit continually minister to you during this time when your heart is especially sensitive to Him.
What a beautiful post! Grief can open our eyes to life as nothing else can. After losing my sweet husband last year to cancer, I have a whole new appreciation for the little things in my life. I am blessed with a wonderful family and dear friends that I never want to take for granted.
I’m so sorry for you loss. I takes things like this to put everything in perspective. Your post was such a great memorial to her memory. Thanks.
When my sister was dying from an oxygen deprivation brain injury, my mother asked her to “smile, please smile.” She turned her head and smiled the absolutely most amazing smile I had ever seen…her eyes were wide open and it appeared that she could see. She had gone in to have outpatient eye surgery to hopefully, hopefully restore her rapidly failing vision. She had been unable to see my 18 month olds pretty painted pink toenails just days before. I firmly believe that she COULD see at that moment, at least a glimpse of heaven. She then frowned and turned away, never to smile at anyone on earth again. It was such a tremendous gift to see that smile. The grief has threatened to drown me but God will send a song or a friends call or some comfort just when I need it, just as he allowed her that glimpse of heaven to give us the gift her her smile just one more time.
You brought me back to when I sat at my husband’s funeral. KIA 30 years old. So much pain. Death was not God’s plan, and like you said, it is not the end. God will have the victory. Thanks so much Melissa for your words. They truly touched me today.
My response to your words…clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap
Thanks for your post. It hit home with me. Five months ago my dear husband, age 51, died from injuries sustained in a semi-truck rollover the previous evening. God has been so gracious to me and our three children since the accident.
Rich’s funeral was such a testimony to his relationship with Christ. The church was packed (400+ people) with folks who knew him from his days as an educator, as a truck driver, and as a friend/colaborer for Christ. At the end of the service, a taped version of “I Can Only Imagine” was played. Since we were at the front of the sanctuary, we couldn’t see that, one by one, people started standing and raising their hands. By the time we realized what was happening, practically everyone was on their feet. It was truly God-honoring! My sweet husband was such a humble man – he didn’t think people liked him. But he has truly left a legacy in our small town as a man who loved the Lord and the Word of God.
M.J. Lennox in Lovington, NM
Dear KMSmom86,
I am sorry for your loss as well. Your husband sounds like the kind of man that my husband and I would love to have met! God’s continued grace to you, my siesta!
Sorry for your loss Melissa. I reflected majorly on this and certainly tears have flown all over my face with relativity. My family has experience it’s share of death and that moment of joy when you lose someone does happen just like you described when her father was clapping. My brother and I laughed out loud 22 years ago at the same time right at the casket of my mother. I was 21 and my brother was 19. We felt at that time gosh was that disrespectful to her? Immediately after the service we could wait to ask one another “what was so funny?” we both had the same thought and vision of her smiling, dancing no less something that often embarrassed us when she did it. We both pictured the same thing and yes she was in her gown. Those incorruptible bodies are going to be something else! I enjoyed you so much in James and I pray with your surrender to ministry we will hear more from you soon!
All these posts have shed light on something I’ve been struggling with. Combined words that help my emotional pain heal a bit more as I listen in with my own tender heart. The emotional pain/heart connection is very real.
Melissa, thank you for sharing your experience and feelings with us — and so beautifully expressed. It was very timely for me, having gone yesterday to the funeral of a friend who died too young — and also having a sister that is hanging on precariously to this life. At the same time, I just bought a christening gown for my baby granddaughter who is to me a weight on the joy side of the scale of life to counterbalance the weights of sadness and pain I’m also feeling. Life is exquisite, both in its pain and its joy, and the living out of the gift of our lives is such a deep mystery. I’m so grateful for Jesus, who is our Life, that I can’t even put words to it!
SOOO touching and moving Melissa! Thank you for sharing this emotional event in your life. WIll pray for your friends family!
Melissa, what a beautiful and moving memorial to your friend and to our God. Oh, that we can learn to live in the fullness and joy of the Lord, so that when we are dying He overflows from us to others. My husband passed away 5 years ago after an 8 year battle with cancer. He knew and trusted the Lord so much that he was an inspiration to me during that time. My son in law passed away almost 3 years ago suddenly from a heart attack leaving a 1 year old and a 7 year old and we were uncertain of his relationship with God. Oh to be able to clap and rejoice in the middle of our hurt and pain……that possibility comes only from knowing the One who gives joy and peace. May God continue to comfort you and your friends family during this time. Priscilla from Mesa, AZ
I am a survivor of cervical cancer. Very similar to your friend I was 30 years old when diagnosed, I had two small children. Your story has reminded me of how very blessed I am to have seen my son graduate from high school two years ago and in two weeks my daughter as well. I have been cancer free for 15 years, all the glory be to God. Your friends family is an inspiration to those suffering loss, thank you for sharing!
LaRee Wilson
Tucson, AZ
Melissa, I am so sorry for your loss of your friend.
When you spoke of the beauty of the day of the funeral and wanted it to be gloomy, etc…I recalled thinking similar thoughts the day my husband and I walked out of the hospital after our three year old son died. I thought,”Why isn’t everyone stopping? Why is the sun shining? Life is just going on around me and I so want to die myself.”
For ten long years I lived in that deep dark tunnel. But that’s another story….
Thanks for sharing.
Melissa,
I read your tweet about your friend & said a prayer then as I did just now.
My eyes welled up, my heart hurt but in a strange way it also was comforted.
I am an emotional girl… so when I read of a faith such as your friend’s father’s – his clapping… knowing in the midst of her painful last days there were moments when heaven edged a little closer that she clapped! I can’t help but think her dad was cheering her on as she had finished earthly race. Cheering our Jesus for giving his daughter and us eternal life! He raised her from this earthly walk to glory! And I can’t help but know, that when He comes to take you home, whenever that might be, she will be there to clap and give you a high five!
I have lost friends along the way at very young ages… so I know the ache. But also know the deep sense of joy and hope that only Jesus gives!
God bless and much Love!
Dear Sweet Melissa,
This is Lindsey’s mom, Theresa. I just got an email from one of ladies at church with your blog on it. Through many tears, I continue to be in awe over the people who have been so touched by Lindsey. You wrote from the heart sweetie and you can’t imagine how I am feeling right now. I came to work with a smile from ear to ear because this morning Lindey connected with me. I was getting dressed for work and we always have the television on but for whatever reason we did not have it on this morning. I was sitting at my vanity and I heard “turn on the radio”. I didn’t skip a beat and turned the radio on that is my bathroom. Within seconds a song came on and normally I don’t pay attention to the lyrics, I just use it as background music. My attention was totally tuned to this song. The song is “Wherever You Go” and the verses that caught me were “so lately been wondering who will be there to take my place when I’m gone, you’ll need love to light the sadness on your face”. “And maybe I’ll find out a way to make it back someday to watch you, to guide you through the darkest of your days. If a greater wave shall fall and fall upon us all then I hope there’s someone out there who can bring me back to you.” ” I know now just quite my life might still go on in your heart, in your mind. I’ll stay with you for all of time.”
Lindsey is such a beautiful SOUL! Her legacy will live on. I would like to share a picture that a designer at her dad’s company did for us. It is Lindsey as an Angel. I don’t think we are friends on facebook but you request me as a friend and you will see it.
Sending you a big HUG!
Theresa Apostolo
Mrs. Apostolo,
I just burst into tears when I saw and then read your comment. I so wanted to give you a big hug at the memorial service but didn’t get a chance. I just want you to know that there is hardly an hour that goes by that I don’t think of Lindsey. She was such a special person, full of so much light, life, and resolve. She was a force, and for good at that. I haven’t seen her in so, so long and I miss her. But I’m thankful for all the lives that she touched and will continue to inspire over the coming years. You and Leon are such wonderful people. I pray that God would be so present with you and your dear family over the coming days. I am not on Facebook but I would love to see that photo and I would love to keep in touch with you all.
I’ll never, ever forget. I will always count it a sincere privilege that I got to know Lindsey all those years ago and look forward to the day I will see her face again.
My deepest and warmest regards,
Melissa Moore Fitzpatrick
Melissa, it was so wonderful to get a reply from you. I hope you don’t mind but I did send your beautiful post to several of our friends. You recounted the Memorial Service with such beauty and compassion I could not help but want to share that with our friends.
Leon and I read your post together and then most of the replies and he said that the Saturday before Easter Sunday after all of our family left Lindsey called him over and said “Daddy, when this is all over would you please tell everyone “Thank You so much”. He felt that his applauding was a way to relay this heart felt thank you from Lindsey to everyone there. Brings tears to my eyes now thinking about it.
I am so Proud to say that God gave us the opportunity to be her parents and that I can’t blame him for wanting her to come back home.
Give my love to your Mom and give yourself a big hug from me. I am sorry that we did not get to talk to each other at the Memorial.
Hugs from all of the Apostolos
Melissa, I am so sorry for the loss of your friend. What you wrote was beautifully written.
Ashley
Melissa, I’m so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing. The image of a grieving father starting the applause at the celebration of his beloved daughter’s life will be forever etched in my memory.
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ Who comforts us in all our afflictions so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.
2 Corinthians 1:3-4.
Melissa,
Thank you for sharing! I am so sad about your friend but found your whole account of the funeral to be very moving. The part about the father really struck me. Two months ago, I attended the funeral of an 18-year-old former student. Like you, I went in feeling just increbibly sad but came away having experienced a powerful occasion. The boy’s dad got up and said, “What Satan meant for evil, God is using for good.” I was in awe that he could say that, and your friend’s dad guesture sounds very similar. It sounds as if her funeral was also powerful. As my dad said, the death of a Christian should be powerful. I’m praying for your friend’s family-and you-as you all deal with this loss.