Sacredness of Death

The rain fell gently today. Messy, cold, disruptive and yet beautiful. Reminds me of Richard. A close friend of more than 35 years had called me yesterday morning to speak of her continued grief and challenges in journeying with her dying father; she and her mother, siblings and extended family. While on the phone the call came in - her father had gently passed away. More quiet tears. Messy because we should not want someone to die; messy because Richard had been in a waking coma for more than 9 months; messy because the best and the worst in each of them emerged. Yet death is sacred, gentle while violent, a journey. Let the tears flow.

Lunch with Cousin Maria

A death in the family can bring people together as it did today in my family. Cousin Rosemary was born in the same year and the same month as I - twenty days earlier than me. She died suddenly, very unexpectedly. It is hard to imagine a world without Rosemary. In our growing up years we visited often and I knew her as fun loving, full of surprises, willing to state her opinion on any topic, beautiful.

I met her sister for lunch today, along with my own sister. We reminisced and we caught up on each others' lives. We talked about Rosemary and our whole family. We promised each other to meet again - soon.

Jesus came with the promise of eternal life. In faith I know Rosemary lives. In faith, I know we will all meet again, and relatively soon. Humanly, however, I miss Rosemary, and I cherish even more, now, the times I meet face to face with the people I love. The being together comforts and bolsters me against the sadness of leave takings. The coming together and the going away... all part of this wondrous life on earth.