Tuesday, February 26, 2013

More Than Meets the Eyes

(Originally written February 20, 2013)

So, I went to the funeral and it was beautiful.  Everyone did a wonderful job celebrating the life of Amalour.  As I looked around the church, I thought how interesting, how amazing, that all these people (and I'm sure it was just the tip of the iceberg) were somehow touched by Amalour's 46 years present on this earth.  It was remarkable and humbling.

As I sat there, I was reminded of my own story.  How my father died at the age of 40, leaving a wife and 6 children; I just a mere baby of 2 years and 1 month.  I have thought, as all of my babies passed that significant age, that if I died right now, they wouldn't remember me.  But then I look at my family, my siblings.  In the beginning, they did their best trying to help me remember my dad by taking me around the house, showing me pictures of him.  But those memories did fade.  However, the stories have not.  I have heard time and time again (always eagerly!) the various escapades from each of them about their times (and each others' times) with Dad; stories of me being his "Pooch" (glad that nickname didn't stick!) and how much he adored me in the short time we had together.  When I looked upon Amalour's children as the priest spoke of how much she loved them, I remembered my mom telling me, when I was very young, that daddy died because God needed more doctors in Heaven.  Well, that explanation didn't hold much water when I was old enough to conclude, that doesn't make sense because there were no sick people in Heaven??!  So, upon reflection, Mom said that God felt Dad could do more from up there, than he could ever do from down here.  And, after 40 years, 6 healthy kids and spouses, 12 healthy grandchildren, and one healthy wife/mother of his children, I truly believe that his influence from his lofty vantage point was exponentially more valuable.  We lost our dad but never the protection of our Father.  

There were tears of loss today; for those that were present and for all those who have felt loss.  So, it was wonderful the emphasis on the impact and joy of Amalour's life.  Do not weep for me, sang the choir.  Like Amalour herself was telling us all.

I strive to live this way:

When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced.
Live your life so that when you die,
the world cries and you rejoice.

Cherokee Expression

We don't know the why but, with faith, and time, it all fits.  Today is a day to celebrate.  Every day.  

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