on death and dying: i will remember you

"People may forget what you said, or what you did, but they will always remember how you made them feel."

:: The brilliant, Maya Angelou, whom I am named after

I just found out Linda died.

-- CONTINUED FROM... when life's not fair --

I was sent reeling with the pain as I read those words and the shock began to settle in every single one of my nerves as I thought to myself, we lost another one.

It was like touching a hot plate, the pain was so stunning and so real as I realized, death is only getting closer.

Reminded of the piercing reality that death will come for us all.

A time that has never felt more near as I have been surrounded with people and story after story of those who have lost daughters, sons, wives, brothers, husbands, mothers to disease.

Several of which, of undiagnosed chronic disease like me.

The phrase that was ringing in my head after an appointment recently, something relating to how we can be blind to our own dysfunction from a recovery workbook for a class on codependency I'm currently taking, as I thought to myself as yet another test was normal and I looked at the woman in the face as she kept saying, yup, everything looks normal, you're about as good as came be, as she slowly moved the electrodes around on my arms and legs sending mild then larger electric shocks through my nerves to see how fast my nerves were responding...

I remember looking at disbelief at my legs and feeling like they were betraying me! Come on, SHOW SOMETHING. You are NOT normal, so why are you acting like it now?!

I looked at her and everything within me wanted to scream, NO, IT IS NOT NORMAL.

And I felt about as helpless as a child trying to keep from drowning who doesn't know how to swim.

I remember walking out of there, angrier than ever and hearing these words, “What you don't see can kill you.”

Reminded there is tremendous danger in all we CAN'T see.

I do not want to be another statistic, I have cried many and many a time.

Yet, the number one reason why people die of unknown or undiagnosed chronic illnesses is BECAUSE THE DOCTORS DIDN'T FIGURE IT OUT IN TIME.

We're burning daylight here and reminded of it everyday.

When I first read the words from my mom's text, then after wondering why she would text me such a thing, realized that in my phone being off the rest of the day, she had left several voice mails.

But I could not believe it though I knew it was coming.

“Linda Currier died on Saturday. Lord bless her soul, may she rest in peace. Mike said the service is Thursday at 11 am.”

I just kept reading the words because everything within me didn't want it to be true.

I knew the time would come.

She was the now second of my mom's best friends who has been diagnosed with terminal cancer in the last four years. Auntie Pookie was the first, and I was able to write about her for the first time in four years, just this January here and here (where my journey through facing the realities of death began.) And Linda makes the second.

Linda and Auntie Pookie both shared being more than just one of my mom's good friends. They were also like mothers to me. In fact, Linda was my preschool teacher at Columbia Montessori school and her and my mom have been friends, as well as our families since then.

I remember mom wanted me to bring them by a wedding invitation last spring and visit them. I ended up putting it off and putting if off, eventually she just took it.

Like, Auntie Pookie, as I realized tonight as I just collapsed on the bathroom floor, leaning against the wall and just needing to steady myself as I felt like the room was crashing in, I realized when I read that text, the news of her dying did not match up with the woman I knew and loved.

The woman who was so vibrant and alive and full of love, passion, and life. A woman who would run around in the field with us and her kids as we went on treasure hunts at her farm. A woman who taught me how to read, taught me all about shapes and colors, sung us silly songs, and made me feel loved, special and valued as a kid.

A woman who is not supposed to die.

I realized, as I just felt this wave of emotion come over me, I just kept repeating to myself, we lost another one. We lost another one.

Anytime I hear of someone dying now of cancer or some disease, something within my heart breaks. It brings the piercing reality that punctures my hope and says, "What makes me think this will not happen to me?"

As I was reminded in seeing my mom's boss recently, for the first time since he or I have been sick, there was a gently knowing we shared in our eyes. As we both tried to convince the other, and mostly because we were in the company of a lot of their other colleagues, that we were taking it one day at a time. I could see the light in his eyes had faded. I could tell he was weak, through he was trying to be strong. I could see the sickness written all over his face. The signs that are so easy to hide from everyone else. But beneath the exterior he was trying to convey, I saw a man of many, many tears.

As he said a grim, but “life is unpredictable,” as he quickly, almost too quickly, made his abrupt exit from the conversation.

A feeling I also knew too well, for when being asked again and again how you are doing is enough to make you want to avoid any sort of social reaction at all. As I was telling Ben, I cannot go ANYWHERE without people asking. Running into people at the mall or Woodcrest or Starbucks, feeling the wound being ripped open again as they ask, almost hesitatingly as if they can see me already begin to grimace, “So, is there a diagnosis yet, do we have any answers?”

One of my friends at Woodcrest, a dear friend of mine I meet a couple years ago on a retreat with some of them but whom I've grown closer to in this last year as she was also in my small group and going through a very similar neurological illness, after the last ER visit and many of the ladies getting emails from my small group leaders and friends and all of them coordinating rides and meals and stuff for us the last few wees, jumped in about after the second or third time I got bombarded with questions after recovery by jumping in and answering people, “No, she doesn't have answers yet, but she WILL.'

God, I love this woman. I look up to her in so many ways, she is a woman after God's own heart and a woman of praise, a beautiful mother to some darling, darling children, and one of the strongest people I know.

But, tonight, I could not handle it.

The reality of it all came again crashing in.

Of all we have heard and been told since January when a new season in this journey began.

The reality that depending on who is right, we are dealing with a life-threatening condition.

-- A reality that depending on who is right, there is no cure.

-- A reality that depending on who is right, there is no known treatment available. Yet. (love how they throw in the “yet” or “at this time” as if that really somehow is going to convey a sense of hope.)

-- A reality that depending on who is right, no amount of medication, procedure, or treatment will be able to reverse this.

-- A reality that depending on who is right, we are fighting an invisible enemy and running out of time.

-- A reality that is going becoming more and more real and possibilities continue to get eliminated, leaving the things I most tried to believe would not be true for me, still standing.

-- A reality we have had to find the balance between living in the midst of, yet still clinging to hope. He is my only hope at this point, and as Ben always reminds me, God is going to take care of us no matter what.

We can't go there all the time. Well, he can't for sure.

We do not know what the future holds. Nor can we go too far one way or the other.

But, for MY journey, while this has not been the same for Ben, this semester, though a variety of situations and events and people, God has pushed me to deal with my fears of death, to the point where just a few weeks ago before this recent relapse occurred, I had realized I had never had more hope for heaven and longed for eternity. Dying was no longer something I feared, but I longed to be with God in that place, finally hope.

Throughout the course of this semester, He gave me an entirely new view of eternity, and a hope, perspective and strength like never before. One that could only be explained as it came entirely and entirely from Him.

I write a post in earlier May entitled, “Not Afraid,” (that I never got to post, yes based on my anthem from my boy, Eminem), but it was about how I had to be brought into the very center of my fear, so that I would be free and fear no more (yes, from one of my fave movies, Batman).

Yet, tonight, I realized, this news came as such a harsh jolt into the reality of all that is death and dying.

I hate it! I HATE IT, GOD! WHY? WHY? Do we have to die?

I sat there and I cried and I told God how much I hated this.

How much I hated illness.
How much I hated disease and how it can come and steal life from so many.
How much I hated the harshness and finality of death.
How much I hated sin. Pain. Brokenness. Death.

Why, WHY do we have to die?

There were no words I could even think to say to them.

There were no words that would touch or even lay a finger on the pain of losing their mom, losing a wife.

My mind raced to the emptiness that would now live inside of their walls. That light, that presence that is gone now.

Things will never be the same again.

I hate that things like disease and illness remind us of the frailty of the human condition. That we are literally here today and gone tomorrow.

Why. Why. WHY?

And no verse or amount of theological analysis would be helpful here.

Those things are truth and do I believe in the hope of eternity and all of those things, yes.

But, some of the most profound words we find in scripture were from the One who GAVE us every inkling of human emotion we could ever express, who gave our souls capacity to experience and feel the full range of emotions that would uniquely bear resemblance to and show us the true heart of our Father.

YES, Jesus... WEPT.

Let's say it again, He WEPT. And I did too tonight. Of that woman who is forever etched in my memory as the woman I knew before disease started taking over her body.

I realized as soon as I got the text, that just like Auntie Pookie, I did not go visit her.

My mom just said at our father's day lunch that she was going to visit her that next week, I should really go, we don't know how much time she has left, she would really love to see you.

And I didn't go.

But this time, I don't feel as guilty as I immediately understood.

I didn't go see her because I COULDN'T.
My heart simply could not bear it.

I am already surrounded by the harsher realities of life whether I go seeking them or not. Which is why my heart has been so drawn and touched by the everyday little things that we can so often take for granted, grateful for the little gifts in the most ordinary of moments or days, drawn to beauty, signs of hope, life, that my heart has needed to hold on.

I did not want to see her in that state.

My heart simply could not bear it, knowing I am in a different yet similar battle as well for my life.

And I cannot handle the thought about thinking about Ben.

When I think about death, many of my fears are gone (praise Jesus, for real), yet a sadness can still remain.

Sad more for the people I would leave behind and who would still have hope and peace knowing I'm in a better place and finally Home, but who would still feel sad because they missed me.

And a place I cannot go very often, but the feelings of sorrow as I have imagined Ben at my funeral and seeing him come home to an empty house, crying in the days to come.

I cannot handle it, so I cannot dwell or live there.

Yet, what I do not understand about death and what I question God about is not so much the theology of death and victory, we all know that, or that this life is just passing away to the other, no, my issue is with the people we leave behind.

Why? Why do we have to live and die. Love and be loved if we will just have to one day say goodbye (and this has nothing to do with heaven, yes we will be reunited with loved ones there, but this is speaking of the struggle in my heart to understand all of this with my head and my heart).

And I have found and been given resource upon resource on this issue from a variety of angles and had some of the most moving conversations with those who have lost a child, spouse, parent to disease as well, so please please please don't send me anything regarding this post, I am choosing not to go into all of the what I've been learning and found and agreed upon and read to be true of my own personal theology on this subject, but this is not the time or the place to dive into those matters, this is a time to grieve and remember.

And, I am also choosing to omit those items also because regardless of what we hold to be true, we are all HUMAN, we all struggle with God, we all wrestle with God, we all struggle to understand and accept certain things at times and that is more than okay. The Lord will be faithful to lead us and WANTS us to come to Him with our questions, and He already knows what is in our hearts, so there's no use pretending or trying to hide it. Okay, end rant ;)

As I thought about her dying and being gone and what her husband is feeling, her children, I could not bear the thought.

Why do we have to die?

And she was yet another that I didn't go to visit.

I wanted to keep the image I had of her in my mind of the woman she was years ago.

Which brings me to my biggest issue I have wrestled with God about from time to time the last six months,

Death is so final.

She's gone.

She's GONE.

It doesn't even seem right or the least bit okay.
Her children no longer have their mother, her husband no longer has his wife.

How can this be okay???

My heart longs to avoid pain at all costs. Being known as the “feeler” that I am, I have learned a lot about myself in the last year through marriage and through being sick of all the ways in which I am largely also an “avoider.” Yet facing the harsh realities of pain, sickness, and death are the journey my heart has been called to at several parts of all of this. Yet one my heart finds itself sometimes at peace, other times, like tonight, in total disbelief.

The times when it feels so cruel and harsh. When I am reminded we are but a breath. That we never know when our time is coming and that death will come for us all. 

::

Linda, thank you for the ways in which you so touched my life. You will never know the light you were to me. Thank you for loving me and believing in me even when I did not believe in myself and being one of the first to remind me that my life was worth it.

Just thinking about you and typing these last few lines out again has made me burst again into tears just thinking about how much you meant to me and how sad I am that you are gone.

I hate that I will never see you again or hear your laugh or watch the way your kids light up when you enter the room. I hate that you and Mike will never be you and Mike again and know he will try to be strong but how lost he will feel living life without you.

You have a brilliant soul and a heart of gold, I wish I could give you back even just some of all that you have given me.

I hate that you were sick. I hate that this thing took your life. I hate it because things were never supposed to be this way. I hate that you suffered and how hard you had to fight. I hate that this thing ever happened to you.

It scares me because more and more I know this could happen to me to and there is so much more of life I want still to live. Death and illness is one of those things you know could happen, but is totally different when it happens to you. I want to stay in the world where I believe I will through this, but it is hard to believe some days.

Hearing news like this breaks my heart because it brings that reality that much more real and more close. That we all live and die. And none of us are promised tomorrow.

I know you fought with all that you had and so, Linda, I am fighting now too for you. With God as my Help, I will continue to fight as hard as I can everyday in this battle. My strength comes only from the Lord.

I will continue to fight with all I got even on the days you know far too well of as well when you just want to give up. Linda, I hate that you are gone. I hate how much your family has suffered and will suffer and miss you.

I hate that there are so many you had to leave behind. I hate that you had to go like this. I hate how much you had to suffer.

I hate that this disease took your life. I hate that disease once won again. As I cannot get the stories of the families I've encountered out of my mind. That it can happen to any of us battling disease. Yet, I will fight, remembering the fullness of your life and the vibrancy of your spirit, know that you will always live on in my memories and in my heart.

Lord, her family may not know You, but You know them. You see them, You love them, and care for them deeply, more than I could know.

You long to comfort them and relieve the troubles and the anguish of their hearts, so Father would You please comfort them in this time.

Remind them they are not alone. Meet them and send your angels to attend to them in their time of need, in the forms of their neighbors, their relatives, and their friends. Lord, I ask for the depths of Your mercy, love, and grace to be poured out over this family in this difficult time.

May the light of Your presence meet give them all that they need. Will You meet with them and give them the strength that they need to face another day. Will You do what only You can do and fill their hearts with a peace that only Your grace and Your love can provide.

Father, I thank You for the life Linda lived here on earth and the countless of lives that she touched. I thank You for allowing her life to intersect and touch mine. You are a good God, Father, Your goodness reaches far deeper than joy or pain, even in all the things our feeble minds cannot comprehend or understand.

But, my heart says, I trust You and You alone are my hope. Father, I need you and I love you. I need your grace. I need your help, for without You I cannot stand. I thank you and I praise you for all that you are. Be with Linda's family and friends, give them a comfort and a peace that truly surpasses understanding. I pray all of these things in your precious name, Amen.

::

Okay and yet again, this is crazy, I feel like what I so often love when I read the psalms, they start out lamenting and crying out, and literally crying as I was as well tonight in trying much of this and getting my pain out on paper even though I wished I could have just gone to sleep, yet something was bursting within me to come out.

And I fought to lay my fear aside of “being too heavy or depressing or too much” and not writing in something hard and heavy on my heart for the sake of emptying out my emotional cup in a way that brought life and peace again to my soul.

Once again, I am amazed that hours later, I am in a different place. The pain that I so wanted to avoid, in facing it and getting it out, has freed me. I don't know how the Lord does this, but He beyond amazes me. Thank You, for creating us just the way you wanted us – with hearts and souls that are fully alive, where I am reminded of the truth of these words,

“We are never more alive to life than when it hurts.”

&

“To be alive is to be broken.
And to be broken is to stand in the need of grace.”

Too tired and lazy to find them somewhere on my computer on who write those, but I think I found both in Abba's Child, by my boy, Brennan Manning, but the quotes are not his, but others he fondly quoted as well. Peace be with you all!