Diane, my friend of over 50 years left unexpectedly. Just days before her death we had spent a wonderful six days on a road trip to her beautiful home in Oregon. Now, without warning; a stroke, surgery, life support....then a memorial service.
My other friend, Nana, age 89, was actually family by marriage and a hoot to hang out with. Her frail body finally gave in to the cancer that had tormented her for much too long. The last time I visited with her she told me she was tired, and so ready to go to heaven. "I'm pretty sure I'm done here," she said with a smile.
Both had beautiful celebration services. Yes, I said celebration, because that's exactly what we did at what some still call a 'funeral'. There was music (not those spooky organ tunes either!); lots of laughter and tears as we heard cherished stories about those women we had grown to love so much. Oh...and let's not forget the incredible food we all ate after saying our final farewells. More memories shared over tacos, pasta, dessert and coffee. More laughter, more tears.
God seems to delight in sending me, what I call a 'postcard from heaven' when I need an extra bit of confirmation that what I'm walking through is NOT going unnoticed by Him.
Let me give you an example. Maybe two.
My friend Diane had an incredible sense of humor. After her service at her hometown's mortuary, the family and guests were invited to a luncheon of her favorite foods in another large room in the building. Okaaaaaay, I have to admit it felt a bit odd eating tacos just a room away from my friend lying in a satin box. We voted not to join in the festivities, but did want to say hello to a few folks I hadn't seen in years.
We walked silently through the lobby, pale green walls covered with family portraits and framed acknowledgements. Obviously this mortuary business had been a pillar in the community. This was confirmed as the "history" of their craft was now proudly displayed in glass cases, lining the hallway to the taco feed. I swallowed hard and winced at the sight of archaic knives, drills and stitching needles....then I heard laughter. Yes, it was my daughters who also thought it a strange pathway to the 'fellowship hall'. But the laughter I heard was that of my friend. Diane herself was cracking up at this unusual exhibit....and suddenly my sorrow was turning to joy. If anyone could think of some witty one liners to fit this situation, it would have been Di! Thanks, God. That was a good one!
And then He sent a love note as well. This one was addressed to not only myself, but to our other mutual life long friend, Carmen.
We had chosen to forego the crowded fellowship room and instead went to lunch at Diane's favorite Mexican food hangout. We were told by family we had plenty of time before the graveside motorcade took place. However, when we returned to the mortuary, everyone was long gone.
We drove up just as the crowd was dispersing, the myriad of flowers being placed reverently by the caretakers. When they had finished, they stood quietly for a few seconds---a nice touch compared to the harsh pounding of the backhoe I had experienced so many times before at funerals, ICK.
At first we felt horrible, missing out on the final words spoken over our dear buddy. We were able to give our condolences to Jim, her husband and Brad, her son as they prepared to leave. Lots of hugs, tears and words everyone says when you don't know what to say. And then it was just us.
Marshall said it first. "You guys get to say goodbye all by yourself."
Carmen wasn't ready to say goodbye. I didn't want to say goodbye. Kim wasn't sure what to say period. So I had her do what I knew she should always do. Sing. (Diane loved Kim's voice. On one of our road trips Kim had serenaded us with some of Di's favoritie hymns, and she joined in with harmony and tears. Kim thought we were all nuts but we kept her going!)
It was our very own private farewell, just like Marshall said. The flowers weren't the usual carnations on a stand variety. Her resting place was enveloped by the most beautiful pots and containers with tropical arrangements I've ever seen. The rose arrangements were amazing---a huge cascade boasted my favorite large yellow roses, one of which I tucked in my purse. In the stillness of the moment, we stood on holy ground as my daughter softly sang "It Is Well".
Thanks, Lord, for that. For giving two grieving friends laughter AND healing tears, to let us know You are well aware of our broken hearts.
Now that's the way to say goodbye. For now.
My other friend, Nana, age 89, was actually family by marriage and a hoot to hang out with. Her frail body finally gave in to the cancer that had tormented her for much too long. The last time I visited with her she told me she was tired, and so ready to go to heaven. "I'm pretty sure I'm done here," she said with a smile.
Both had beautiful celebration services. Yes, I said celebration, because that's exactly what we did at what some still call a 'funeral'. There was music (not those spooky organ tunes either!); lots of laughter and tears as we heard cherished stories about those women we had grown to love so much. Oh...and let's not forget the incredible food we all ate after saying our final farewells. More memories shared over tacos, pasta, dessert and coffee. More laughter, more tears.
God seems to delight in sending me, what I call a 'postcard from heaven' when I need an extra bit of confirmation that what I'm walking through is NOT going unnoticed by Him.
Let me give you an example. Maybe two.
My friend Diane had an incredible sense of humor. After her service at her hometown's mortuary, the family and guests were invited to a luncheon of her favorite foods in another large room in the building. Okaaaaaay, I have to admit it felt a bit odd eating tacos just a room away from my friend lying in a satin box. We voted not to join in the festivities, but did want to say hello to a few folks I hadn't seen in years.
We walked silently through the lobby, pale green walls covered with family portraits and framed acknowledgements. Obviously this mortuary business had been a pillar in the community. This was confirmed as the "history" of their craft was now proudly displayed in glass cases, lining the hallway to the taco feed. I swallowed hard and winced at the sight of archaic knives, drills and stitching needles....then I heard laughter. Yes, it was my daughters who also thought it a strange pathway to the 'fellowship hall'. But the laughter I heard was that of my friend. Diane herself was cracking up at this unusual exhibit....and suddenly my sorrow was turning to joy. If anyone could think of some witty one liners to fit this situation, it would have been Di! Thanks, God. That was a good one!
And then He sent a love note as well. This one was addressed to not only myself, but to our other mutual life long friend, Carmen.
We had chosen to forego the crowded fellowship room and instead went to lunch at Diane's favorite Mexican food hangout. We were told by family we had plenty of time before the graveside motorcade took place. However, when we returned to the mortuary, everyone was long gone.
We drove up just as the crowd was dispersing, the myriad of flowers being placed reverently by the caretakers. When they had finished, they stood quietly for a few seconds---a nice touch compared to the harsh pounding of the backhoe I had experienced so many times before at funerals, ICK.
At first we felt horrible, missing out on the final words spoken over our dear buddy. We were able to give our condolences to Jim, her husband and Brad, her son as they prepared to leave. Lots of hugs, tears and words everyone says when you don't know what to say. And then it was just us.
Marshall said it first. "You guys get to say goodbye all by yourself."
Carmen wasn't ready to say goodbye. I didn't want to say goodbye. Kim wasn't sure what to say period. So I had her do what I knew she should always do. Sing. (Diane loved Kim's voice. On one of our road trips Kim had serenaded us with some of Di's favoritie hymns, and she joined in with harmony and tears. Kim thought we were all nuts but we kept her going!)
It was our very own private farewell, just like Marshall said. The flowers weren't the usual carnations on a stand variety. Her resting place was enveloped by the most beautiful pots and containers with tropical arrangements I've ever seen. The rose arrangements were amazing---a huge cascade boasted my favorite large yellow roses, one of which I tucked in my purse. In the stillness of the moment, we stood on holy ground as my daughter softly sang "It Is Well".
Thanks, Lord, for that. For giving two grieving friends laughter AND healing tears, to let us know You are well aware of our broken hearts.
Now that's the way to say goodbye. For now.
Thats how all goodbyes should be! Some tears AND some laughter. Sad to not have them here with us but excited to know we WILL see them again ;)
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