As I’m writing this, I am hearing the sound of Ray Price singing the song: “Funny How Time Slips Away”. Seriously, I truthfully have been running as fast as I can for the past couple or three days and so far, so good. Actually, that’s not true. I’m running out of time. I made a commitment to write something needed by a friend before the end of the day. It comes as soon as I get today’s blog written.
If I hadn’t spent two to three hours that I didn’t have to use this afternoon getting a new phone, my blog would have been posted long before now. Had my old phone still been working, I would have waited until next week. That is not true. If my phone had still be working, I wouldn’t have needed a new phone. Unfortunately, for the past couple or three days, the features on my old phone were mostly inoperable. I received calls and texts that I could not answer. Out of necessity, early afternoon, I headed for the AT&T store.
I didn’t sleep in this morning. I actually started my day early by reflecting on and chronicling thoughts to share late morning at the funeral of a friend. Who knows, maybe that is a new modus operandi for me. Friday morning, I awakened at 3:30 thinking about a funeral service scheduled for that morning in Dallas. That funeral service was for the mother of my next-door neighbor. Yesterday’s funeral was in Dallas. Today’s service was at church in Henly.
I didn’t hop right out of bed at 3:30 Friday morning, but I thought about the importance of a celebration of life for the family members who’ve lost a loved one. My friend’s mother had spent the last fourteen years of her life in a memory care center. In addition, my friend is an only child and he no longer has extended family members residing the Dallas. He anticipated his mother’s sister and two cousins and their families would be at the service, but at best, there would only be a handful of other people present.
Who could argue that his mother’s absence from her regular community over the past fourteen years could negatively impact the numbers of people who might have an interest in attending her funeral. Understanding the importance of celebrating one’s life, he planned to speak at the service about how his mother’s influence positively impacted his life. He also asked two or three other family members to share a remembrance or two about his mother. It was for all intent and purposes, a fitting farewell shared with a few family members and close friends.
Earlier in the week, I had pulled together my thoughts and made a few notes. As I went over them in my head Friday morning, the approach didn’t sound right. By 4:00 a.m. I was sitting in front of my computer and scripting a new introduction.
Truthfully, it may have been for me that I chose to express things differently. My thoughts on how my friend and his family members might be feeling could have missed the mark entirely. It was clearly supposition on my part or perhaps a flashback to my own circumstances in a similar situation.
I chose to make the following remarks: “The grief process is always painful; always unsettling, and always not quickly nor easily resolved. I awakened this morning thinking about today and thinking about what Yvonne’s funeral service represents to you – a son, a daughter-in-law, a sister, a revered aunt, a piano instructor. The term ‘loved one and treasured friend’ is true for all those categories of relationships.
It occurred to me in the early hours of the morning that the death of a loved one following Alzheimer’s falls into the area of complicated grief. I suspect that news of Yvonne’s passing probably impacted most of you differently than you expected it would. After all, you’ve had almost a decade and a half of preparing yourself. To some degree, you have grieved some level of loss following each visit, each point of contact, each frame of reference when you realized that continued loss of cognition had taken more of the relational connection that you once shared.
How many prayers over the last fourteen years have you prayed? You prayed for God’s healing without consciously knowing specifically what you were asking or how that healing would define itself. Would it be a restoration of Yvonne’s cognitive abilities? Would it be a remission in her cognitive decline? Would it simply be the momentary gift of her eyes lighting up when you walked into her room? Surely, you’ve grieved Yvonne’s loss for years.
But something in your own brain changed the moment you heard news of her death. Isn’t it true that Yvonne was no longer defined by the illness that had taken much of her presence from you. She was no longer thought of as your loved one confined in a setting providing specialized care.
- She was again the mother that had attended to every need.
- She was a continual source of encouragement and love.
- She was the sister from childhood whose love and laughter filled your life and forged a bond of love that you will carry with you through all eternity.
- She was the aunt whose home was continuously filled with the most wonderful music of her own making.
- She was your piano instructor that made learning seem possible.
- For all of you, thoughts of Yvonne merged back into a totality of memories too precious to forget.
We need the hope and assurances that only God can provide to:
- Calm our hearts
- Promote peace within our spirit
- And gently redirect our thoughts to the eternal nature of life lived in the presence of God’s unconditional love.
All My Best!
Don