Sunday, March 4, 2012

I Didn't Know Her

Dear friends of mine recently lost their daughter. She died, she was about my age, and she died.

I saw her mother, an empty shell. I could see where death had ripped her daughter from her body. I saw her father, and saw him play the organ and conduct the choir for his daughter. I didn't wonder "how could he do it?" It made perfect sense; he wouldn't leave the music for someone else to do. That's his daughter, she deserved music selected and made by him. And it's unlikely he did it to "keep busy" as some explained to me. I believe it was to attend to his daughter more deeply. Saying goodbye to your child deserves all your attention. And when he received communion he walked right past me, and I saw where death had broken his shoulders.

I went to the funeral and sat beside her friend, and my friend, and felt her hurt. I tried to connect, but I didn't know what to say to help. In the pew, we sat together and held hands and sang the hymns and said goodbye to her friend and their daughter--this woman my age who died. I didn't know her, but I felt her absence.