Death Came Calling...

Death came calling yesterday... not an unexpected visitor but unwelcome nevertheless. Mother called as I was in the middle of teaching class so I knew it was an emergency. Uncle Calfrey died yesterday morning. I finished teaching and hurried out to my car, surprised by tears. My first babysitter... the one who gave me books for Christmas and introduced me to Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women... the kind man who asked me to play the piano for his wedding as a twelve year old neophyte... beloved by his children and grandchildren... this loving man has died. He is another broken link in the Calhoun family chain.
As I drove up to our back door, my cell phone rang again. Our neighbor/friend/family of choice, was calling to tell us Betty had been sent home from treatment and Hospice was on its way. Betty, my mother’s friend in the mountains, gracious lady who loves flowers and her dog Pebbles, who took such delight in her new home close to Leisa and Gary, is dying. She sat in her recliner, down under in the land of in-between, surrounded by those who love her dearly, slipping away to her next destination. Each of us took turns holding her hand, touching her cheek, speaking words of love and grief, beginning to say good by and God’s Speed. We held each other and wept, told funny stories, remembered all that had gone before and gave thanks.
And as life is never just one theme, Alison came for the weekend with baby Aidan. Beginning life... life’s ending... the wheel of life turns in joy and sorrow. As I order flowers for Uncle Calfrey’s funeral, talk to Leisa about her mother, talk to Uncle Harold and weep, call my mother and listen to her cry, baby Aidan is laughing up at me... patting my face... chattering and going "Yea"... We go to visit Leisa and her mother taking baby Aidan into Betty’s room. Betty is awake... laughs and pats him... calls him a beautiful boy. For just a moment, life is full of promise and joy.
One of the saving graces of age is the recognition that life is never all sorrow... all joy... nothing but problems... always easy. It is a paradox... a combination... an embroidery that uses many different colors of thread to create the pattern of our lives. So I can laugh and grieve at the same time... celebrate Aidan’s presence and Betty’s life while I weep for her approaching death.
At age fifteen, I learned an important lesson about death and life. My grandfather had died and we were meeting my grandmother at the little funeral home in Walkerton, Virginia. As we walked in, my eyes flew to the open casket containing my grandfather’s body. Grandma stood, came and took my hand and my sister’s hand, walked us to the casket, talking to us all the way down that long, long aisle. She told us not to be afraid... Granddaddy’s soul had gone to be with God... what we would see was Granddaddy’s body. We would recognize him but he would look very different. She stood with us looking at his body, talking about him, telling stories, holding us close as she shared her love and grief. Her calm, quiet acceptance of the natural order of life and death... her explanation of the rituals of death... her touch... was a gift that has sustained me and warmed my soul as I have lived through all the deaths that have come my way.
"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen". Hebrews 11:1 What I have in death and in life is faith... faith in the Hope that brushes lightly against my soul as I watch those I love die... faith in Love that holds me close when tears and laughter flow... faith in Life that does not end just because the body dies... faith in God who has been with me all the days of my life. I am grateful for the Presence that stands beside me, holding me in the arms of Love, never letting me go. Amen...