Saying goodbye

On Saturday, we attended a funeral service for a friend of ours. She was 51-years-old and died suddenly last Wednesday. She just collapsed, and the autopsy didn't find any discernible cause. She had just moved back into a new house after a year away. On Thursday, we helped her family by transferring the contents of her moving van into a storage facility. How depressing ... to see someone's life all packed up like that.

The service was held at the St. Francis Xavier Catholic Church, which I've been interested in checking out. When I walk by on my way to St. Paul's, the Catholic church seems packed with people. I like the idea of a dynamic congregation like that. Holding me back are two factors: first, one of the main reasons I would want to go is because the congregation has a large Latino component, but they attend a separate service in Spanish. Second, they congregation is raising money to leave their beautiful, old church a half-block from my house to move to a new building outside of town.

It was pouring rain on the walk to the funeral, very apropos. And the church was packed, I don't think I've ever attended such a large funeral. It's reflective of how warm and charismatic a woman she was. The service was neither inspiring nor comforting, it seemed as if the priest didn't really know or understand her. The most touching part was when her 14-year-old daughter read a poem about what her mother meant to her. Of course, I had been thinking of losing my mom the whole week, but this moment just brought back all the grief. And put the point on all the empathy I have for these young daughters who have to grow up motherless.

At the end of the service, there was finally something that people could relate to. The universally recognized spiritual, Amazing Grace:

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come;
'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me.
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we've first begun.

Some people in our community - including two close friends - are taking this much harder than I am. I don't know whether they knew her better or haven't experienced death as closely as I have. I simply feel like death is a part of life, and it happens, and there is no way to predict or make sense out of it. But it's made me wonder if I'm in a bit of a low-level depression, perhaps I should be feeling more.

Since the service, I have been remembering our friend. She was so vivacious. Her smile keeps coming back to me. In the last year, especially, she had seemed to blossom. A new haircut and new clothes and jewelry made her seem happier. I also remember how she welcomed us to the community when we moved here. I think she made sure we met everyone and attended the key events. She was just so excited about life.

Farewell, my friend.