"Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them."
— Leo Tolstoy
Today, along with other parishioners & our clergy, celebrated the life of a dear man from our community who died of cancer at the height of COVID last summer. While I will miss this man , I had the closure my soul needed to move on. I am sad for me, but now he is with his beloved and in the Presence of the Jesus he served so well in his long life.
I put that grief to rest. I give thanks for the short time I knew this wise, wonderful man whose big smile was matched only by his servant's heart.
George had a long, well lived, well-loved life. I'm grateful that we , as his Christian community could safely gather with his children and grandchildren and remember him at his best.
Rest well, brother. Thanks for being such a great witness.
However, my soul is still stuck in the horrible vortex that is anticipatory grief regarding my dear mentor { who, for privacy's sake, I shall not name in public} and friend. As the days get further away and I find more excuses to not make that second visit that my soul so desires by my head cannot comprehend.
Apparently, my sweet friend felt the need to hide from me how sick she has been... and for much longer than I'd originally thought. The person I've known and loved for so many years is slowly fading away. I so want to serve her during these tender times, but my head cannot comprehend why she felt the need to conceal her illness from me. I'm not angry--- just very confused. I know my task is to love my friend as she is now, but this is all new territory to me.
Anticipatory grief hits me like a brick wall, and on my way home from George's memorial , my grief over my friend hit me hard. This grief was compounded when I found out that our neighbors, who attended the church where my friend served as musician for over 30 years has been weak, sick and fragile for a long time. They said she was so fragile that right before COVID, she required assistance to get to the organ bench. The Pandemic ended my friend's church music career rather abruptly.
As someone with the strange, spiritual gift of empathy--- I KNEW something was drastically wrong with my friend. I'd e-mail her -- asking if she felt okay-- and she always says yes. Even daily , in my morning text I ask" Good morning ____ how are you today?" She always says " Fine. Thanks for asking.
I so much want to call " Bullshit" ! To which she would reply: " Watch that mouth, Sarah"
She and I will not get , as we say in Godly Play " all the time we need" COVID & her own stubborn will robbed us of a lot of time. But I want to make the best of the short time we have left, and I need to see her again. Perhaps the Holy Spirit will guide her into telling me why she kept her illness from me { and from a lot of people who love her} such a secret. I need that eyeball-to-eyeball face time-- even if she chooses not to talk at all. I need to find a way to safely hold her hands in mine when we pray together-- as her hands and arms have held me in some of my darkest moments in college.
I want to serve her in Christian friendship and love during these times, but I need some guidance with ministering to this version of my friend.
Most of the person I've known is already gone. Yet her essence is still hanging around in her tiny { she was always so petite} Earthly vessel. Her Light is slowly changing, and it hurts me to the core.
Tolstoy wrote : "Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them."
I love strongly, so I mourn strongly. And for someone with my personality traits, long-term anticipatory grief is horrible.
I love my friend. I will always love her. It is this odd ' in between' that is hard for me to navigate.
Sometimes being a human really sucks!
Amen.
Sarah McCarren
18 September 2021
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