This pondering came from the passing of a baby girl who touched my life in so many ways, despite my never meeting her. Baby Jersey is the daughter of my friend Heidi. She was born with a heart defect. Despite the doctors fixing her heart, Baby Jersey's body just wasn't as strong as her spirit, and she passed away on Monday morning, in the loving arms of her mommy and daddy.
I love this baby girl. Jersey made me realize how much I would be willing to do to serve a friend, even if it wouldn't fix the source of their pain. She made me remember that those who pass on are the lucky ones. She enabled me to better understand the enormity and awesomeness (for lack of a better word) of eternal families. The best thing Jersey did for me was renew my appreciation for my crazy, hyper, disobedient (about half the time), precious, fun, snuggly, beautiful children. I do hold them tighter and love them better because when I do, I remember that some mommies don't have that luxury.
Jersey's daddy, Chris, gave a beautiful talk at her funeral. This is a quote that he read, that I've been thinking about since:
The only way to take sorrow out of death is to take love out of life.
It made me think, "Well, I guess I don't want to stop loving and being loved, so this is the trade-off." What a blessing it is to love so deeply.
I wish Chris and Heidi and Tatum and Tucker didn't have to say goodbye to baby Jersey, but I know that they know better than me, what an amazing girl she was to only have to endure the limitations of a body for 41 days.
I'm reading a book called, "A Prayer for Owen Meany". It's about a boy whose mother passes away after getting hit in the temple with a baseball... that was hit by his best friend. I read this paragraph the other night, that also struck me.
When someone you love dies, and you're not expecting it, you don't lose them all at once; you lose them in pieces over a long time- the way the mail stops coming, and their scent fades from the pillows and even from the clothes in their closet and drawers. Gradually, you accumulate the parts of them that are gone. Just when the day comes- when there's a particular missing part that overwhelms you with the feeling that They're gone, forever- there comes another day, and another specifically missing part.
This was so pertinent to mourning my dad. Proof of his physical presence has slowly disappeared over the last 4 years, but just when I think everything is gone, I will have vivid memories, or see pictures of him that I've never seen before. I recognize his influence in my life still, and I KNOW that he's watching over my kids and my family. I know he pops in every now and again to allow us to feel his love for us. Although I miss him SO MUCH, I am also grateful to have an angel on the other side who can help prompt me and protect me and my kids. Death is so heart-wrenching and sad, but only to those left behind. They understand better than us that death is a necessary step in our eternal progression. Those who pass on feel love towards those left behind, but no sadness, because they know that they'll meet again.
Dad in his Indian Taxicab, out to take the neighborhood kids for a Sunday drive.
6 comments:
Craig and I have a death obsession too. Craig watched his sister die in a farm accident when he was 8 and she was 7. And then there is my mom that has terminal cancer...the combination makes the two of us the most paranoid people and we have a constant fear of loosing a loved one. I guess we are perfect for eachother :) Thanks for that amazing post! Reading about your dad gives me so much comfort, I just want to be reassured that my mom will continute to visit and protect us. It is so unbearable to think about and a hard reality my family has to face. Also, I would love to have Grady come over when ever you are up for it.
its so true, I think about it all the time...how would I react if I lost a child/husband/sibling/parent? Something you can't help but be scared to death of, but can't stop thinking about at the same time. No one will escape it at some point. I loved that quote so much, it put me at ease & reminded me to put more LOVE into life! Great post.
Aren't we blessed to have the gospel in our lives? Love you Manda.
Am I sick because I don't have any fears of death? That's it's sadness doesn't permeate me? I wonder if I am somehow insensitive... I think death is a glorious thing. Not in a sick death-wishing way, but in a beautiful reunion and point of fulfillment way. I don't even like to speak my feelings for fear of hurting someone else's... but I am SO grateful for death. I am SO glad that there is an end to suffering, a removal of pain, a remembering, a homecoming. I can think of no more holy times than those experienced in death's presence. You are right, though. It is hardest on those left behind.
what a tender post, what would we do with the "plan" in our lives, really????? :)
What a beautiful post. I love the picture of your dad. He's so real and alive. Death is an interesting thing. Sometimes it seems so unreal. I miss your dad. I can still hear his voice. He has always been so proud of you.
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