Something made me start thinking about how when someone dies, you don’t want to dwell on the “bad” stuff. It seems wrong, in a sense, to think ill of someone who’s gone. But what made Emily, Emily… was just as much the “bad” stuff, as the good, if that makes sense. (I hope I don’t upset people with this post, but then again, it’s my blog I can write what I want. :). She had a heart of gold, but she also had a temper. She wrote the sweetest cards, but she didn’t always think before she spoke. She was at times selfless, but at other times, the most self-centered person I have ever met. And you know what? The same things could be said about all of us, we all have our faults. A lot of our lives were filled with ups and downs, horrible fights, and a lot of hurt words.
But that’s family. You love. You dislike. You fight. You make up.
And to pretend that Emily was always an angel is a lie. Yes, we may have put her down at times--- but she had no trouble putting us down too. But she didn’t discriminate- from what I’ve been hearing, there were a lot of people that were on the receiving end of her sharp retorts. That girl could sure put you in your place. As far as temperaments go- my mother and I are similar in the fact that we are slow to get angry, but slow to forgive. Emily and Dad were the same in that they were quick to lose their tempers, but neither of them can stand to have anyone mad at them. They both will bug you endlessly until you end up saying it’s okay just to make them go away. So when you have those different tempers clashing, it could sometimes get heated in our house. But the bottom line is that at the end of the day, things were usually okay. We made it work. And it was a struggle. But I think that’s a testament to all of us- because no matter how bad things got, we never gave up on each other.
I’ve been kicking myself remembering all the times I went to bed angry. All the times I got snippy with her on the phone. The times when I kept her at a distance because I was too afraid to let her get close and hurt me again. I think we all are dealing with those similar emotions. But as wonderful, and yes, as special, as Emily was and still is- she was difficult. And to say anything otherwise is ignoring a huge part of who and what she was. People saw a lot of the “heated” moments that we had, but they didn’t always see how we made up. They didn’t see that as much as Emily and I fought, she always called back. They didn’t see that when she got into that car accident, her Daddy was the first person that she called. And they didn’t see the look on his face when he went tearing out the door to get to his little girl. They don’t know that when Emily and I weren’t home, and Dad heard an ambulance go by, he would call us to make sure it wasn’t us the ambulance was heading for. Emily and I would laugh, but I remember her telling me once that it was one of the things that she loved about Dad. They didn’t hear all the times Mom stopped what she was doing at work to talk to Emily about absolutely nothing when she called her. Or the times Mom would take her to lunch because Emily had a bad day, even though Mom really didn’t have the time. They didn’t see the times at the dinner table when we would reminisce about silly moments from when Em and I were little. We teased each other. Some people may have thought it was picking, or mean, but that’s how we were.
Not a day goes by that we don’t remember how special she is. Or that we wish we could take back some of the angry words. You can waste away your life torturing yourself with the “what ifs”, and the “if onlys”. But the bottom line is that we never gave up on Emily. And she never gave up on us. Why? Because we are a family. And families make allowances for each other’s faults. And what I want people to know is that yes, we may have put her down at times- but we were always there to help her back up when she needed it.
"Love...binds everything together in perfect harmony."
~Colossians 3:14 NRSV
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
The Wal-Mart Story....
This is a classic Emily story...
When we were still living in Alabama, Mom and Emily went to Wal-Mart. I don't think Em was in school yet, so she must have been about four. You know when you're in a toystore and there's some obnoxious kid pushing all the buttons on the talking toys? Emily was that kid.
That day they were in the craft department. There was a display of bags of colored sand that you use for sand art. Emily was poking her finger into the bags. Emily poked her fingers into everything. Mom used to keep a plastic baggie of those electric outlet plugs in her purse, because every where they went Emily wanted to stick her fingers in the outlets. Anyway, back to the craft department at Wal-Mart: Mom told her again and again to stop, that she was going to poke a hole in it, and the sand was going to make a mess. Mom said she turned her back and heard this sound:
"ppppsssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"
(in case you weren't aware, that is the sound sand makes as it pours itself all over the floor at Wal-Mart.)
Yep, Emily poked a hole in the bag.
Well, Mom had had it. She grabbed Emily by the arm, and said "You are going to march yourself right over to the Wal-Mart lady, and you are going to tell her what you did, and that you are sorry, and you are going to help clean up every bit of that mess!"
And now of course, Emily is crying, big crocodile tears running down her face.
So they go up to the Wal-Mart lady, and Mom says, "go ahead, tell her what you did!"
I wasn't there, but I can just picture her- this adorable little four year old girl with white-blonde hair and big, blue-green eyes:
heaving big sobs, she said:
"I- I *sniff* poked a hole in the- the *sniff* bag, and the sand *sniff* went all over the floor, and-and- *sniff* I'm sorry!!!!"
The wal-mart lady in this thick southern accent patted Emily on the head and told her "Now don't you worry your pretty little head darlin'! It's gonna be alright, we'll clean that mess up!."
Mom was beside herself. She said she wanted to yell, "No! You don't understand! You are RUINING a perfect teaching moment! She's supposed to be in trouble! Yell at her!"
And right then Emily turned around and gave Mom the biggest Chesire-cat grin. Like "ha, ha" I got out of that one.
Mom said it's a good thing you can't be prosecuted for your thoughts.
When we were still living in Alabama, Mom and Emily went to Wal-Mart. I don't think Em was in school yet, so she must have been about four. You know when you're in a toystore and there's some obnoxious kid pushing all the buttons on the talking toys? Emily was that kid.
That day they were in the craft department. There was a display of bags of colored sand that you use for sand art. Emily was poking her finger into the bags. Emily poked her fingers into everything. Mom used to keep a plastic baggie of those electric outlet plugs in her purse, because every where they went Emily wanted to stick her fingers in the outlets. Anyway, back to the craft department at Wal-Mart: Mom told her again and again to stop, that she was going to poke a hole in it, and the sand was going to make a mess. Mom said she turned her back and heard this sound:
"ppppsssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"
(in case you weren't aware, that is the sound sand makes as it pours itself all over the floor at Wal-Mart.)
Yep, Emily poked a hole in the bag.
Well, Mom had had it. She grabbed Emily by the arm, and said "You are going to march yourself right over to the Wal-Mart lady, and you are going to tell her what you did, and that you are sorry, and you are going to help clean up every bit of that mess!"
And now of course, Emily is crying, big crocodile tears running down her face.
So they go up to the Wal-Mart lady, and Mom says, "go ahead, tell her what you did!"
I wasn't there, but I can just picture her- this adorable little four year old girl with white-blonde hair and big, blue-green eyes:
heaving big sobs, she said:
"I- I *sniff* poked a hole in the- the *sniff* bag, and the sand *sniff* went all over the floor, and-and- *sniff* I'm sorry!!!!"
The wal-mart lady in this thick southern accent patted Emily on the head and told her "Now don't you worry your pretty little head darlin'! It's gonna be alright, we'll clean that mess up!."
Mom was beside herself. She said she wanted to yell, "No! You don't understand! You are RUINING a perfect teaching moment! She's supposed to be in trouble! Yell at her!"
And right then Emily turned around and gave Mom the biggest Chesire-cat grin. Like "ha, ha" I got out of that one.
Mom said it's a good thing you can't be prosecuted for your thoughts.
Posted by
Melissa
at
11:59 PM
So gullible...
I haven't posted a funny memory in a few days. I think I need a laugh.
My dad doesn't have a middle name. He's just Wayne Norman, Jr. He used to tell me that when he was born, my grandparents had to pay per letter on his birth certificate, and they couldn't afford to give him a middle name. I believed him for... well, long past when I ought to have realized he was pulling my chain.
My full name is Melissa Catherine Norman. Emily's is Emily Ruth Norman. There are 22 letters in my name. There are 15 letters in Emily's name. I told her that mom and dad must have liked me more because they spent more money on my name than they did hers. She had a complex about that for years.
Emily hated milk. We couldn't get her to drink it for anything. Dad made her a glass of chocolate milk one day and told her that if she drank it all, there was a surprise at the bottom of the glass. That milk disappeared, but much to Emily's dismay, there was no prize. I forget what Dad told her happened to it, but that if she tried again tomorrow, it might be there. This went on for days before Emily finally figured out she was being duped.
And then there was the power of attorney. Mom and Dad were going on a 2 week trip somewhere, Emily was either 13 or 14, and they gave me a power of attorney for her. In case of an emergency or something like that. Me being me, I sat and read through this document and discovered that... I had the power to put her into foster care. Or have her put up for adoption. Well, you can just imagine how I held THAT over her head.
Here's an idea of how some of our conversations went:
"Emily, it's your turn to load the dishwasher."
"I don't want to"
"Well, if you don't- you'll be loading dishes in someone else's dishwasher because I have the POWER!"
Emily loaded the dishes.
"Emily, turn off the TV and go to bed".
"I don't want to."
"Gee, I hope your new family has a TV".
TV went off and she went to bed.
I am so not going to make a good parent.
I think I had her traumatized, until she actually read the silly document for herself, and realized that by the time all that paperwork would be processed, mom and dad would be home. And that was the end of the saga of the "POWER".
Man, I miss messing with her.
My dad doesn't have a middle name. He's just Wayne Norman, Jr. He used to tell me that when he was born, my grandparents had to pay per letter on his birth certificate, and they couldn't afford to give him a middle name. I believed him for... well, long past when I ought to have realized he was pulling my chain.
My full name is Melissa Catherine Norman. Emily's is Emily Ruth Norman. There are 22 letters in my name. There are 15 letters in Emily's name. I told her that mom and dad must have liked me more because they spent more money on my name than they did hers. She had a complex about that for years.
Emily hated milk. We couldn't get her to drink it for anything. Dad made her a glass of chocolate milk one day and told her that if she drank it all, there was a surprise at the bottom of the glass. That milk disappeared, but much to Emily's dismay, there was no prize. I forget what Dad told her happened to it, but that if she tried again tomorrow, it might be there. This went on for days before Emily finally figured out she was being duped.
And then there was the power of attorney. Mom and Dad were going on a 2 week trip somewhere, Emily was either 13 or 14, and they gave me a power of attorney for her. In case of an emergency or something like that. Me being me, I sat and read through this document and discovered that... I had the power to put her into foster care. Or have her put up for adoption. Well, you can just imagine how I held THAT over her head.
Here's an idea of how some of our conversations went:
"Emily, it's your turn to load the dishwasher."
"I don't want to"
"Well, if you don't- you'll be loading dishes in someone else's dishwasher because I have the POWER!"
Emily loaded the dishes.
"Emily, turn off the TV and go to bed".
"I don't want to."
"Gee, I hope your new family has a TV".
TV went off and she went to bed.
I am so not going to make a good parent.
I think I had her traumatized, until she actually read the silly document for herself, and realized that by the time all that paperwork would be processed, mom and dad would be home. And that was the end of the saga of the "POWER".
Man, I miss messing with her.
Posted by
Melissa
at
10:46 PM
Missing stuff
Do you want to know what she did???
We finally got into her computer, and I was looking at the music she had saved on her computer. She had burned almost every cd I owned onto her computer.
That’s what irritated me to no end about her. If she had asked, I would have let her copy them in a heartbeat. Heck, knowing me- I’d even have let her use them and then eventually forgotten I had even given them to her! But she never asked, she sneaked. Same thing with my sweaters. I always blamed myself for losing them in the mess that I call my bedroom, but invariably- I’d either catch Emily wearing one, or find them in her closet. She used my bath soap, and stole my toothpaste. She’d use my hairbrush and leave her hair in it. She ALWAYS stole my hidgie bands. I found her “stash” of them hidden in the downstairs bathroom. And I don’t even have the satisfaction of using them, because my hair is too short to pull into a ponytail! When we were little she ate the feet off of my Barbie dolls, she stole my blanket. She kept the pegs from my Lite Brite, because she thought they were pretty. She swiped my pens, and dulled the points of my expensive colored pencils. We fought over a blanket that we got when we lived in Turkey, and the only reason she didn’t get that is because I was forced to hide it from her. She would have worn my shoes if her feet hadn’t been so much smaller. She took my earrings, and always lost one. And then she justified keeping the lone earring because she could wear it in her top hole in her cartilage. I’m still not convinced she doesn’t have the missing ones stashed away somewhere too, but I haven’t looked yet. She ate all the “good stuff” out of her Easter basket, and then started eating mine. She conned me out of a blanket I had crocheted for myself, she took my gloves and scarves.
And what gets me, is that all that stuff I would have shared. (Well, except the Barbies. I had a legitimate reason to not let her play with them. She ate their feet! I have a box of Barbies that have bandages where their feet should be, because Emily chewed them off.)
And I’m sitting here laughing at how mad I used to get at her. How we fought over the silliest things. I’m telling you- the war over the Turkish blanket was not pretty. We almost came to blows over that one. It seems so silly now.
I’m thankful God gives us the gift of memories. The ones that make you laugh, the ones that make you cry, and even the ones that make you angry. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I could just forget her, but there are more good memories than the bad. And I say that I would have shared all those things- but I mean, seriously. What sisters do actually willingly share? Stealing each others things is just what they do. And in the big scheme of things, what she was taking from me was all pretty meaningless. Well, except the Barbie dolls. I still haven’t quite gotten over that. :)
We finally got into her computer, and I was looking at the music she had saved on her computer. She had burned almost every cd I owned onto her computer.
That’s what irritated me to no end about her. If she had asked, I would have let her copy them in a heartbeat. Heck, knowing me- I’d even have let her use them and then eventually forgotten I had even given them to her! But she never asked, she sneaked. Same thing with my sweaters. I always blamed myself for losing them in the mess that I call my bedroom, but invariably- I’d either catch Emily wearing one, or find them in her closet. She used my bath soap, and stole my toothpaste. She’d use my hairbrush and leave her hair in it. She ALWAYS stole my hidgie bands. I found her “stash” of them hidden in the downstairs bathroom. And I don’t even have the satisfaction of using them, because my hair is too short to pull into a ponytail! When we were little she ate the feet off of my Barbie dolls, she stole my blanket. She kept the pegs from my Lite Brite, because she thought they were pretty. She swiped my pens, and dulled the points of my expensive colored pencils. We fought over a blanket that we got when we lived in Turkey, and the only reason she didn’t get that is because I was forced to hide it from her. She would have worn my shoes if her feet hadn’t been so much smaller. She took my earrings, and always lost one. And then she justified keeping the lone earring because she could wear it in her top hole in her cartilage. I’m still not convinced she doesn’t have the missing ones stashed away somewhere too, but I haven’t looked yet. She ate all the “good stuff” out of her Easter basket, and then started eating mine. She conned me out of a blanket I had crocheted for myself, she took my gloves and scarves.
And what gets me, is that all that stuff I would have shared. (Well, except the Barbies. I had a legitimate reason to not let her play with them. She ate their feet! I have a box of Barbies that have bandages where their feet should be, because Emily chewed them off.)
And I’m sitting here laughing at how mad I used to get at her. How we fought over the silliest things. I’m telling you- the war over the Turkish blanket was not pretty. We almost came to blows over that one. It seems so silly now.
I’m thankful God gives us the gift of memories. The ones that make you laugh, the ones that make you cry, and even the ones that make you angry. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I could just forget her, but there are more good memories than the bad. And I say that I would have shared all those things- but I mean, seriously. What sisters do actually willingly share? Stealing each others things is just what they do. And in the big scheme of things, what she was taking from me was all pretty meaningless. Well, except the Barbie dolls. I still haven’t quite gotten over that. :)
Posted by
Melissa
at
11:40 AM
Monday, April 28, 2008
An ever-present help
I was driving to work this morning, and it felt like a weight was just pressing down on my chest. I missed Emily so much, it almost hurt to breathe. It seems to hit me when I’m driving. Maybe it’s because I’m by myself. Or maybe it’s because I’m forced to sit still and I don’t have anything to keep myself busy from thinking about it. In the first few days after, I couldn’t sit still. I was re-arranging stuff in the kitchen, I was doing laundry, I cleaned the bathroom, I was running up and down the stairs. At one point my mom’s friend Eileen looked at me and said, “Melissa, how many more times are you going to go down those stairs?” I couldn’t stay still. Because when you sit still, you think about it. And sometimes it’s just too hard. But driving- well, you’re kinda stuck. Even if you turn around and go back home, you still have to drive to get there.
And aside from missing Emily, it’s a rainy, dreary, COLD, dismal day. (And to think… this time a month ago I was at the beach and sunburned. This morning I had to pull a coat on.) So needless to say, the weather wasn’t helping my mood any. I walked into my office, slamming my stuff everywhere, all prepared to be in a ROYALLY ticked off mood today. I don’t think the statute of limitations has run out on people understanding my foul moods and rudeness just quite yet. I turned on my computer, and as I was waiting for it to boot up, I changed my desk calendar. It’s a small day-by-day calendar that has a different Bible verse on it. And this was today’s:
“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” Psalm 46:1
Drat. Just when I was really getting myself ready to dive headfirst into my pity-pit, God took away my diving board.
That’s a verse I’ve read a hundred times, but I’ve never really read it before. An ever-present help in trouble. It’s funny, there have been a few people who have been asking if we’ve gotten angry at God yet. It’s the “yet” that makes me pause- like people are expecting that you’ll eventually be angry with God. Maybe that does come, but it hasn’t for me. And I don’t think it will. If anything, I’ve seen more evidence of His grace through all of this. Someone else said to me, “something like this must really test your faith.” Who knows, maybe I’m just weird- but my faith in God hasn’t been shaken. That verse really hits home, He IS an ever-present help in trouble. Sometimes it hasn’t always been easy to see Him, but He’s been there through it all.
Funny… all of a sudden, I’m finding it hard to stay in my foul mood.
And aside from missing Emily, it’s a rainy, dreary, COLD, dismal day. (And to think… this time a month ago I was at the beach and sunburned. This morning I had to pull a coat on.) So needless to say, the weather wasn’t helping my mood any. I walked into my office, slamming my stuff everywhere, all prepared to be in a ROYALLY ticked off mood today. I don’t think the statute of limitations has run out on people understanding my foul moods and rudeness just quite yet. I turned on my computer, and as I was waiting for it to boot up, I changed my desk calendar. It’s a small day-by-day calendar that has a different Bible verse on it. And this was today’s:
“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” Psalm 46:1
Drat. Just when I was really getting myself ready to dive headfirst into my pity-pit, God took away my diving board.
That’s a verse I’ve read a hundred times, but I’ve never really read it before. An ever-present help in trouble. It’s funny, there have been a few people who have been asking if we’ve gotten angry at God yet. It’s the “yet” that makes me pause- like people are expecting that you’ll eventually be angry with God. Maybe that does come, but it hasn’t for me. And I don’t think it will. If anything, I’ve seen more evidence of His grace through all of this. Someone else said to me, “something like this must really test your faith.” Who knows, maybe I’m just weird- but my faith in God hasn’t been shaken. That verse really hits home, He IS an ever-present help in trouble. Sometimes it hasn’t always been easy to see Him, but He’s been there through it all.
Funny… all of a sudden, I’m finding it hard to stay in my foul mood.
Posted by
Melissa
at
9:33 AM
Friday, April 25, 2008
Now I'm mad...
Emily, I miss you. I recorded your voice mail message on my phone and listened to it for almost an hour last night. And I'm mad at myself that that's the only recording I have of your voice. All those silly messages you've left me and I never saved one.
I miss you, but right now I am so angry at you, I wish you were here just so I could slap you. And you know me, how I have to be pretty darn mad to get to that point.
But I'm mad. Mad that you wouldn't listen. Mad that I didn't do more to try and make you listen. I'm mad that I didn't call you on Monday when I got home from South Carolina. Mad that I didn't call you on Tuesday. Mad that I didn't hug you before I left for South Carolina. Mad that it wasn't me that got diabetes instead of you. Mad that I didn't go to medical school so I could have found a cure for it. Mad that all I could do was stand by and watch as you made your own choices. I'm mad at myself that I wasn't there for you more than I was. I'm mad that you won't be at my wedding. (if that ever happens). I'm mad that you've left me to deal with mom and dad when they get old and cranky. (sorry dearest parents, no offense! :) I'm mad that it took you dying to get our whole family together for the first time in years. I'm mad that you've made all of our hearts break. I'm mad that we didn't get to know Mike until now. I'm mad that you ruined my birthday. I'm mad that you ruined Mom's birthday. I'm mad that from now on, all my birthday's are going to be a painful reminder. I'm mad, mad, MAD! I'm mad that I don't have anyone to go to the movies with anymore. I'm mad that I can't ever watch those Friend's DVD's again. I'm really mad that you stuck us with that stupid loud hamster for good. I'm mad that every time I see an ugly gray Ford Focus, I think it's you. I'm mad that when I wake up in the morning, there are those few brief seconds that I've forgotten anything is wrong, and then the rest of the day is ruined. I'm mad that you aren't here to cheer me up when I'm sad.
You hated anyone being mad at you. And what makes me the angriest is that you aren't here to give me that smile of yours and try to make me un-mad.
I miss you, but right now I am so angry at you, I wish you were here just so I could slap you. And you know me, how I have to be pretty darn mad to get to that point.
But I'm mad. Mad that you wouldn't listen. Mad that I didn't do more to try and make you listen. I'm mad that I didn't call you on Monday when I got home from South Carolina. Mad that I didn't call you on Tuesday. Mad that I didn't hug you before I left for South Carolina. Mad that it wasn't me that got diabetes instead of you. Mad that I didn't go to medical school so I could have found a cure for it. Mad that all I could do was stand by and watch as you made your own choices. I'm mad at myself that I wasn't there for you more than I was. I'm mad that you won't be at my wedding. (if that ever happens). I'm mad that you've left me to deal with mom and dad when they get old and cranky. (sorry dearest parents, no offense! :) I'm mad that it took you dying to get our whole family together for the first time in years. I'm mad that you've made all of our hearts break. I'm mad that we didn't get to know Mike until now. I'm mad that you ruined my birthday. I'm mad that you ruined Mom's birthday. I'm mad that from now on, all my birthday's are going to be a painful reminder. I'm mad, mad, MAD! I'm mad that I don't have anyone to go to the movies with anymore. I'm mad that I can't ever watch those Friend's DVD's again. I'm really mad that you stuck us with that stupid loud hamster for good. I'm mad that every time I see an ugly gray Ford Focus, I think it's you. I'm mad that when I wake up in the morning, there are those few brief seconds that I've forgotten anything is wrong, and then the rest of the day is ruined. I'm mad that you aren't here to cheer me up when I'm sad.
You hated anyone being mad at you. And what makes me the angriest is that you aren't here to give me that smile of yours and try to make me un-mad.
Posted by
Melissa
at
11:12 PM
Sorrow is selfish
Sorrow is very selfish. You get wrapped up in your own pain and loss that you forget that there are others who are also struggling. Maybe forget isn’t exactly the right word- because you KNOW that others are feeling the loss. But you wrap yourself in a blanket of pity, and just don’t want to acknowledge that anyone else is hurting besides you. It’s totally selfish. But it’s almost like there’s so much sorrow in your own heart, you’re afraid if you try to acknowledge everyone else’s, you’ll simply explode. So you don’t.
But I read Diana’s posts, and it’s almost like we’re missing two different people. I’ve never lost my best friend. Emily’s my sister, but she wasn’t my best friend. And I wasn’t hers. And that’s okay. I’ve often said that if Emily and I weren’t related, we’d probably never talk. Actually, we’d probably not even have liked each other! We were just so different. But because we were sisters, we made it work. But I read about her on facebook and see her in a way that I never saw her before. I see her through the eyes of her friends, and not through the eyes of a sister. I know hindsight is 20/20, but I missed out on a lot. Of course, if this situation was reversed, I think Emily would be seeing the same thing. But I think that’s just the nature of sisters.
I read the thought that my Aunt Pat sent me, and it’s like I could almost hear God whispering to me “Melissa, you aren’t the only one who misses her.”
So I’m starting to realize that this sorrow isn’t just mine and mine alone.
There’s a verse in Corinthians that I just love:
“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows.” 2 Corinthians 1: 3-5
God’s given me so much comfort in these last weeks- in a lot of different ways. But I’m falling down in the “comforting others” department. Sorrow is selfish… comfort is not.
We’re sorrowing for the loss of a daughter. A granddaughter. A sister. A friend. A girlfriend. A cousin. A niece. And even though the loss is different, it’s sorrow for the same person.
Our Emily.
But I read Diana’s posts, and it’s almost like we’re missing two different people. I’ve never lost my best friend. Emily’s my sister, but she wasn’t my best friend. And I wasn’t hers. And that’s okay. I’ve often said that if Emily and I weren’t related, we’d probably never talk. Actually, we’d probably not even have liked each other! We were just so different. But because we were sisters, we made it work. But I read about her on facebook and see her in a way that I never saw her before. I see her through the eyes of her friends, and not through the eyes of a sister. I know hindsight is 20/20, but I missed out on a lot. Of course, if this situation was reversed, I think Emily would be seeing the same thing. But I think that’s just the nature of sisters.
I read the thought that my Aunt Pat sent me, and it’s like I could almost hear God whispering to me “Melissa, you aren’t the only one who misses her.”
So I’m starting to realize that this sorrow isn’t just mine and mine alone.
There’s a verse in Corinthians that I just love:
“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows.” 2 Corinthians 1: 3-5
God’s given me so much comfort in these last weeks- in a lot of different ways. But I’m falling down in the “comforting others” department. Sorrow is selfish… comfort is not.
We’re sorrowing for the loss of a daughter. A granddaughter. A sister. A friend. A girlfriend. A cousin. A niece. And even though the loss is different, it’s sorrow for the same person.
Our Emily.
Posted by
Melissa
at
11:39 AM
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Blinking lights
I miss her. This week has been the hardest- and I'm not sure why. Maybe that's my problem, I'm trying to find reasons why I feel the way I do. My cousin Lauren tonight told me to just let the emotions come, whatever they are. Happy, sad, mad, etc. Maybe she's right--- she usually is.
I applied for another position at work. It's actually more of a promotion within my department. Yesterday afternoon I had my interview. All morning, I was so worried about the interview, I forgot to miss Emily. Until it was over and I went back to my desk. And I looked at my phone, expecting there to be a blinking light, telling me I had a message. See, if Emily were here, she would have called at least twice by then. The first time to tell me to call her when it was over. The second to ask why I hadn't called her yet. And me being me... probably would have listened to the messages, and put off calling her until later because I wasn't up to dealing with her dramatics.
There was no blinking light. And the reality of it all hit me all over again.
Three weeks ago, I would have been a wreck about whether or not I was going to get this promotion. I would have been obsessing and stressing. And driving my family nuts with my usual pessimistic attitude. Suddenly though- it doesn't really matter if I get it. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it. But what I want most is the one thing I can't have. I want that blinking light on my phone.
I applied for another position at work. It's actually more of a promotion within my department. Yesterday afternoon I had my interview. All morning, I was so worried about the interview, I forgot to miss Emily. Until it was over and I went back to my desk. And I looked at my phone, expecting there to be a blinking light, telling me I had a message. See, if Emily were here, she would have called at least twice by then. The first time to tell me to call her when it was over. The second to ask why I hadn't called her yet. And me being me... probably would have listened to the messages, and put off calling her until later because I wasn't up to dealing with her dramatics.
There was no blinking light. And the reality of it all hit me all over again.
Three weeks ago, I would have been a wreck about whether or not I was going to get this promotion. I would have been obsessing and stressing. And driving my family nuts with my usual pessimistic attitude. Suddenly though- it doesn't really matter if I get it. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it. But what I want most is the one thing I can't have. I want that blinking light on my phone.
Posted by
Melissa
at
10:13 PM
It's a rollercoaster ride...
Sorrow does funny things to you. And it comes from out of nowhere. It’s the little things that catch me off guard. I can sit here and look at her picture on my desk without breaking down. But when I found her glucose meter in the downstairs bathroom last night, I was a mess. I’ve been wearing one of her rings and it makes me feel better, but one of the reasons I wanted to trade in my car is because I wanted one that she had never ridden in. I can look at the little stick-figure with the “I love you” she wrote on our calendar on the refrigerator and smile, but finding a sticky note that she had written a phone number on has me sobbing my eyes out. I got a daisy tattoo on my foot with her name on it, and I see it everyday- but junk mail that comes addressed to her tears at my heart. It’s irrational, and it doesn’t make sense.
I have a sort of funny, mostly ironic thought to share... when I was in my senior year of high school, I was getting phone calls from all kinds of military recruiters. One particularly zealous one was "Buddy" from the Navy. I don't know why the Navy wanted me so badly, but that man must have called at least four times a week. It got to the point where I just refused to answer the phone. Finally Emily, who was the one who mostly got stuck talking to him, was fed up with him calling. So one day she sadly told him, "Buddy, you need to stop calling for Melissa. She died." Mom was sooo mad that she said that, but I'll tell you what- I never heard from another one again. And oh, we laughed!
Emily and I both registered as Democrats so we could vote in the primary this year. Our phone has been ringing off the hook with people calling to get us to vote for Hillary, or vote for Obama. Mom said she got a call from one of those political people asking for me, and when she said I wasn't home, they asked for Emily. It's ironic now that we told them the same thing she told Buddy from the Navy, only in our case--- it's a horrible truth. Irony isn't all it's cracked up to be.
I was talking to my best friend Debbie last night. She’s lost both of her parents to cancer, and even though the loss is different, it’s still sorrow, and she’s been through it. In fact, she said, “Melissa, grief is a sick, sick club to be a member of.” And she’s right. It’s like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded. You’re going up the hill, and you know that you’re going to have to drop, but you just simply can’t see it coming.
I have a sort of funny, mostly ironic thought to share... when I was in my senior year of high school, I was getting phone calls from all kinds of military recruiters. One particularly zealous one was "Buddy" from the Navy. I don't know why the Navy wanted me so badly, but that man must have called at least four times a week. It got to the point where I just refused to answer the phone. Finally Emily, who was the one who mostly got stuck talking to him, was fed up with him calling. So one day she sadly told him, "Buddy, you need to stop calling for Melissa. She died." Mom was sooo mad that she said that, but I'll tell you what- I never heard from another one again. And oh, we laughed!
Emily and I both registered as Democrats so we could vote in the primary this year. Our phone has been ringing off the hook with people calling to get us to vote for Hillary, or vote for Obama. Mom said she got a call from one of those political people asking for me, and when she said I wasn't home, they asked for Emily. It's ironic now that we told them the same thing she told Buddy from the Navy, only in our case--- it's a horrible truth. Irony isn't all it's cracked up to be.
I was talking to my best friend Debbie last night. She’s lost both of her parents to cancer, and even though the loss is different, it’s still sorrow, and she’s been through it. In fact, she said, “Melissa, grief is a sick, sick club to be a member of.” And she’s right. It’s like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded. You’re going up the hill, and you know that you’re going to have to drop, but you just simply can’t see it coming.
Posted by
Melissa
at
8:37 AM
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
A thought from Aunt Pat:
So... it has been 3 weeks and 1 day since Emily left us. This is what I was doing 3 weeks and 2 days ago - It was a Monday night and I was going about my usual routine of tidying up the clutter of the day before going to bed. So I see the new air pump for the aquarium that we just bought and I decide to go ahead and set it up then and there. (there is a point to this...trust me) So I'm all contorted on the floor in front of the aquarium, reaching around the back for the air hose and there at eye level on one of the shelves is the "leaf picture" ... (It's one of the pictures in your slide show, Melissa...) So there I am sitting on the floor and pausing to remember the day it was taken. The laughter. The giggles... I was focusing on Emily, sitting in the middle of that leaf pile, looking up at Melissa with such joy... Now - fast forward to several days later, while I'm trying to process the terrible, no, devastating news. I suddenly remember looking at that picture. That picture has been displayed in various places in my house for the last 16 years. I have glanced at it on occasion, but that Monday night I took more time than just a glance... (okay - the point of this finally!) So the thought that keeps nagging at me is why did I reminisce about that then? Was something or someone giving me something to hold onto to help me through an event I wasn't even aware of yet? I don't know... So if it was a message, I can only think that it was telling me to focus on the joy. Which is helping. Little steps, little steps...
Posted by
Melissa
at
9:12 AM
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Going to Poland
About two months ago, I volunteered to participate with Thrivent Builds Worldwide on a trip to Poland. TBW partners with Habitat for Humanity to build homes not only in other countries, but also in the USA. (There’s a link to the website on the left side of the page that explains it much better than I could.)
Anyway, so I’m going to Poland in August for 10 days. When I found out that I had been accepted as a part of the team, Emily was so excited. And then the next thing out of her mouth was “What kind of present are you going to bring me back?”
Yep, that’s our Emily. That girl was all about the "stuff". I told her that the only thing Poland is really “known” for is kielbasa and pottery. And I don’t think I’m allowed to bring meat back into the country. So she was online checking out Polish pottery to see if she liked anything. She decided that maybe I should just get her a hooded sweatshirt that said Poland on it. I told her I wasn’t going over to buy stuff, I was going over there to work. She ignored me. But I wasn’t fooling anyone. I’d have searched the country to find her that silly sweatshirt. And she knew it.
But she was excited for me. She even checked with her sorority to see if they would be able to organize a fundraiser to help me out. And she was so disappointed when she found out that her sorority couldn’t do fundraisers for individuals. They could raise money for Habitat, but not specifically for me. She must have said a hundred times how sorry she was. So she said that she would get some of her friends together to do car washes, bake sales, etc. All this she did on her own- I never asked once. Emily was not the type of person who was into the actual “doing”, but she was the type who would support you 100% in whatever way she could. We made a good team.
I had to raise over $1,000.00 to fund this trip. Two weeks ago my parents said that they were going to use part of Emily’s life insurance money to pay for it. I was speechless. Utterly speechless. They said it was what Emily would have wanted. She wanted so badly to do all she could to help me out. And even though this is not the way any of us wanted it to happen… she did. I’m going to get a locket with her picture in it before I go, so I can take her with me. And so I can tell everyone I meet about her. And I’m going to find that hooded sweatshirt.
Anyway, so I’m going to Poland in August for 10 days. When I found out that I had been accepted as a part of the team, Emily was so excited. And then the next thing out of her mouth was “What kind of present are you going to bring me back?”
Yep, that’s our Emily. That girl was all about the "stuff". I told her that the only thing Poland is really “known” for is kielbasa and pottery. And I don’t think I’m allowed to bring meat back into the country. So she was online checking out Polish pottery to see if she liked anything. She decided that maybe I should just get her a hooded sweatshirt that said Poland on it. I told her I wasn’t going over to buy stuff, I was going over there to work. She ignored me. But I wasn’t fooling anyone. I’d have searched the country to find her that silly sweatshirt. And she knew it.
But she was excited for me. She even checked with her sorority to see if they would be able to organize a fundraiser to help me out. And she was so disappointed when she found out that her sorority couldn’t do fundraisers for individuals. They could raise money for Habitat, but not specifically for me. She must have said a hundred times how sorry she was. So she said that she would get some of her friends together to do car washes, bake sales, etc. All this she did on her own- I never asked once. Emily was not the type of person who was into the actual “doing”, but she was the type who would support you 100% in whatever way she could. We made a good team.
I had to raise over $1,000.00 to fund this trip. Two weeks ago my parents said that they were going to use part of Emily’s life insurance money to pay for it. I was speechless. Utterly speechless. They said it was what Emily would have wanted. She wanted so badly to do all she could to help me out. And even though this is not the way any of us wanted it to happen… she did. I’m going to get a locket with her picture in it before I go, so I can take her with me. And so I can tell everyone I meet about her. And I’m going to find that hooded sweatshirt.
Posted by
Melissa
at
10:17 AM
Monday, April 21, 2008
They don't say enough
While we were in Levittown picking out Emily's grave marker, I also made a trip to the cemetery. I had to run out to Wal-Mart to pick up something I had forgotten, and on the way back to my grandmother’s house, I found myself instead driving to the cemetery with two potted plants. Two yellow daisies for my two sisters.
I both like and dislike the fact that Emily is buried next to Rebecca. The only reason I don’t like it is because it’s so far away. I never thought I would be one to go “visit” the cemetery. After all, I know that Emily isn’t there. Her ashes are, but that spark that made her who she was is not there. But there’s something… comforting in a way to see it. I guess that’s what they call closure? I don’t know. But burying her here in Greencastle would have been worse- because we won’t be here forever. At least back in Levittown, she’s there with Rebecca and Laurie Beth.
And as I sat in front of the graves, I was feeling two very different types of loss for my sisters. The loss of an idea of a sister, and the actual loss of a sister. Rebecca lived for six days, and died two years before I was born. I've always felt the loss- but it's been the loss of an idea, not really a person. A loss of what might have been. But Emily, that's a loss like nothing I've ever felt before. It's the loss of someone I've known, loved, and lived with for 20 years. It's a loss of a link to my past, my childhood- and it's a loss of a lifetime of future memories.
You think strange things in a cemetery. That day I was thinking that those gravestones don't say nearly enough. They give you a name, a date of birth, and a date of death. Sometimes they say "Mother" or "Father", "Son" or "Daughter", etc. But it doesn't say anything about who that person was. Or what they were like. Or who it is they've left behind. Or how they died. Or how they made an impact while they were here. I looked at the nearby stones and wondered what each story was. I wondered if there were other members of their family buried near them. And I thought to myself that people walking by would see that there are two sisters buried next to each other, but would they know that Laurie Beth, who is buried near them, was their almost-two year old cousin that died the same year as Rebecca? Probably not, because those stones don’t say enough.
We bury our loved ones and mark their graves to leave a reminder to the rest of the world that they once were... but those stones don't say enough. That stone we picked out for Emily doesn't say that daisies were her favorite flower. Or that when she was little, she hated her name and wanted to be called Elizabeth. It doesn't say that she was as stubborn as the day is long, but that she had a heart of gold. It doesn’t say that she faced so many obstacles in her life, but she always seemed to make it through. It doesn't say that she couldn't wait to turn 21, and that she wanted to have a family. It doesn't say that she used to eat the feet off of her sister's Barbie dolls. Or that she had the best laugh. Or that she gave the worst dirty looks of anyone I've ever seen. Or that she could be the biggest pain in the butt. Or that she was at times my worst enemy, yet she was my biggest cheerleader. Or that she drove my parents nuts with worrying about her. That stone doesn't say that everyday her family and friends wake up missing her even more. It doesn't say that. It should.
And then I was wondering about some of the other people at the cemetery that day. There was a couple in their 70's who had a couple bouquets of flowers, and stopped at two or three graves. They were smiling and tidying up around them and stayed for 10 or 15 minutes. I wondered if from their demeanor and the way that they were talking and sometimes laughing that they might not be recent losses. Parents, maybe? Friends?
Then there was the man in his thirties that walked to one grave and stood for a minute, then quickly left. Was it a recent loss and still too painful to deal with?
I wondered about these people. I wondered what their stories were, and the stories about the people they were there remembering. I thought about walking over and reading the names on the graves that they had visited. But beyond a name and the dates, I wouldn’t learn anything else from those gravestones. Because those stones don’t say enough.
And I wonder too if they noticed the 20 something young woman who was sitting in front of a grave with two yellow daisies sobbing her heart out. Maybe they were wondering about the story of who I was and who I was there to see? And if they'd come over after I left, they'd have seen Rebecca's stone and the temporary marker with Emily's name and the dates, but that's all they'd ever know. Because those stones don't say enough.
I both like and dislike the fact that Emily is buried next to Rebecca. The only reason I don’t like it is because it’s so far away. I never thought I would be one to go “visit” the cemetery. After all, I know that Emily isn’t there. Her ashes are, but that spark that made her who she was is not there. But there’s something… comforting in a way to see it. I guess that’s what they call closure? I don’t know. But burying her here in Greencastle would have been worse- because we won’t be here forever. At least back in Levittown, she’s there with Rebecca and Laurie Beth.
And as I sat in front of the graves, I was feeling two very different types of loss for my sisters. The loss of an idea of a sister, and the actual loss of a sister. Rebecca lived for six days, and died two years before I was born. I've always felt the loss- but it's been the loss of an idea, not really a person. A loss of what might have been. But Emily, that's a loss like nothing I've ever felt before. It's the loss of someone I've known, loved, and lived with for 20 years. It's a loss of a link to my past, my childhood- and it's a loss of a lifetime of future memories.
You think strange things in a cemetery. That day I was thinking that those gravestones don't say nearly enough. They give you a name, a date of birth, and a date of death. Sometimes they say "Mother" or "Father", "Son" or "Daughter", etc. But it doesn't say anything about who that person was. Or what they were like. Or who it is they've left behind. Or how they died. Or how they made an impact while they were here. I looked at the nearby stones and wondered what each story was. I wondered if there were other members of their family buried near them. And I thought to myself that people walking by would see that there are two sisters buried next to each other, but would they know that Laurie Beth, who is buried near them, was their almost-two year old cousin that died the same year as Rebecca? Probably not, because those stones don’t say enough.
We bury our loved ones and mark their graves to leave a reminder to the rest of the world that they once were... but those stones don't say enough. That stone we picked out for Emily doesn't say that daisies were her favorite flower. Or that when she was little, she hated her name and wanted to be called Elizabeth. It doesn't say that she was as stubborn as the day is long, but that she had a heart of gold. It doesn’t say that she faced so many obstacles in her life, but she always seemed to make it through. It doesn't say that she couldn't wait to turn 21, and that she wanted to have a family. It doesn't say that she used to eat the feet off of her sister's Barbie dolls. Or that she had the best laugh. Or that she gave the worst dirty looks of anyone I've ever seen. Or that she could be the biggest pain in the butt. Or that she was at times my worst enemy, yet she was my biggest cheerleader. Or that she drove my parents nuts with worrying about her. That stone doesn't say that everyday her family and friends wake up missing her even more. It doesn't say that. It should.
And then I was wondering about some of the other people at the cemetery that day. There was a couple in their 70's who had a couple bouquets of flowers, and stopped at two or three graves. They were smiling and tidying up around them and stayed for 10 or 15 minutes. I wondered if from their demeanor and the way that they were talking and sometimes laughing that they might not be recent losses. Parents, maybe? Friends?
Then there was the man in his thirties that walked to one grave and stood for a minute, then quickly left. Was it a recent loss and still too painful to deal with?
I wondered about these people. I wondered what their stories were, and the stories about the people they were there remembering. I thought about walking over and reading the names on the graves that they had visited. But beyond a name and the dates, I wouldn’t learn anything else from those gravestones. Because those stones don’t say enough.
And I wonder too if they noticed the 20 something young woman who was sitting in front of a grave with two yellow daisies sobbing her heart out. Maybe they were wondering about the story of who I was and who I was there to see? And if they'd come over after I left, they'd have seen Rebecca's stone and the temporary marker with Emily's name and the dates, but that's all they'd ever know. Because those stones don't say enough.
Posted by
Melissa
at
12:53 PM
Sunday, April 20, 2008
This weekend
So we went to Levittown this weekend to pick out a marker for Emily's grave. I think that this weekend has been the worst so far. For one thing, the guy at the tombstone store was kind of a jerk. I know that's not technically what you call one of those places, but seriously- that's what it looked like. You walked into this place, and there were tombstones all over the place. You had your choice of colors, sizes, marble or bronze, individual stones, or family stones... it was weird. Plus, like I said, the guy there was not the friendliest of people. I know it's a business, but still- most people who are walking through that door are there because they have lost someone. It certainly wouldn't be high on my list of places to go window-shopping that's for sure. The least he could have done was a simple "I'm sorry for your loss".
But anyway... we decided on one. Emily would hate it. Or maybe I'm just saying that because I hate it. Or maybe it's not really the stone itself that I hate, I just hate the fact that they are putting my little sister's name on it. As far as gravestones go, it's actually nice, if that's a word you can use.
But I still hate it.
But anyway... we decided on one. Emily would hate it. Or maybe I'm just saying that because I hate it. Or maybe it's not really the stone itself that I hate, I just hate the fact that they are putting my little sister's name on it. As far as gravestones go, it's actually nice, if that's a word you can use.
But I still hate it.
Posted by
Melissa
at
9:24 PM
Friday, April 18, 2008
Constants
Diana’s post earlier today really struck something with me… I’ve been trying to find the words to exactly describe the hole Emily has left in my life. She hit the nail on the head… and I realized it’s the loss of what was once constant. Diana said, “She was such a constant. She is a constant, I suppose... just in a different capacity.”
Emily was a whirlwind. She moved whatever way the wind blew. She was up, she was down. She was loving, then she was mean. She was angry, she was forgiving. Sometimes all of those things in the span of about 10 minutes. But she was constant. You could count on hearing from her at least once a day. You knew that when you saw her name on the caller ID that she either wanted something from you or needed you to do something for her. She blew in and through our lives with hurricane-force winds. She was unpredictable. But her very unpredictability was our constant. And without it… life isn’t nearly as fun.
The truth of the matter is I really don’t know what to do. For so many years, I’ve felt like I was cleaning up Emily’s messes. When she was in kindergarten got in trouble on the bus for yelling at the kid who was making fun of her, it was me that later went and beat the tar out of that kid. (And yes, I know now that violence is not the answer…) When she ran away over spring break to Missouri and ended up wrecking her car it was me she called. She claimed it was because she couldn’t get ahold of mom and dad, but I’ve never believed her. And it was me that drove to the airport to pick her up. When she got in trouble with Mr. Forney at school, it was me that went in and tried to straighten it out. When she fought with mom and dad, I tried to reason with her to make things better. When she was so sick and almost died back in November, I was the one who rushed her to the emergency room and spent the day at the hospital. When she needed another signature to co-sign for her latest school loan… I signed it. I always resented it in a way, but now that she’s not here… I don’t have anyone’s messes to clean up.
Friends come and go, jobs come and go, but I’ve lost the one thing that has always been constant in my life. And the one thing I always counted on being there forever. I was counting on her for the plans for Mom and Dad’s 30th wedding anniversary this year. I was counting on my kids someday having her as their “Auntie Em.” She hated the Wizard of Oz, and I always threatened that I was going to have them call her that. She protested, but I think she would have gone along with it. I counted on her being there when I got married. I counted on being there when she got married. I counted on being there when she had kids. I’ve looked forward to having nieces or nephews. I counted on all the things you assume will be constants when you have a sister.
But Diana’s right… she’s still a constant, just in a different capacity. She’s a constant in the fact that every childhood memory I have has her in it. She’s a constant in the fact that every time I see a daisy, I’ll remember her. And every time I hear the rain fall, I’ll remember that was one of her favorite sounds. She’s a constant in the friends of hers, like Diana, who I consider to be friends of mine. She’s a constant in the fact that she is the link that holds so many of us together.
Emily was a whirlwind. She moved whatever way the wind blew. She was up, she was down. She was loving, then she was mean. She was angry, she was forgiving. Sometimes all of those things in the span of about 10 minutes. But she was constant. You could count on hearing from her at least once a day. You knew that when you saw her name on the caller ID that she either wanted something from you or needed you to do something for her. She blew in and through our lives with hurricane-force winds. She was unpredictable. But her very unpredictability was our constant. And without it… life isn’t nearly as fun.
The truth of the matter is I really don’t know what to do. For so many years, I’ve felt like I was cleaning up Emily’s messes. When she was in kindergarten got in trouble on the bus for yelling at the kid who was making fun of her, it was me that later went and beat the tar out of that kid. (And yes, I know now that violence is not the answer…) When she ran away over spring break to Missouri and ended up wrecking her car it was me she called. She claimed it was because she couldn’t get ahold of mom and dad, but I’ve never believed her. And it was me that drove to the airport to pick her up. When she got in trouble with Mr. Forney at school, it was me that went in and tried to straighten it out. When she fought with mom and dad, I tried to reason with her to make things better. When she was so sick and almost died back in November, I was the one who rushed her to the emergency room and spent the day at the hospital. When she needed another signature to co-sign for her latest school loan… I signed it. I always resented it in a way, but now that she’s not here… I don’t have anyone’s messes to clean up.
Friends come and go, jobs come and go, but I’ve lost the one thing that has always been constant in my life. And the one thing I always counted on being there forever. I was counting on her for the plans for Mom and Dad’s 30th wedding anniversary this year. I was counting on my kids someday having her as their “Auntie Em.” She hated the Wizard of Oz, and I always threatened that I was going to have them call her that. She protested, but I think she would have gone along with it. I counted on her being there when I got married. I counted on being there when she got married. I counted on being there when she had kids. I’ve looked forward to having nieces or nephews. I counted on all the things you assume will be constants when you have a sister.
But Diana’s right… she’s still a constant, just in a different capacity. She’s a constant in the fact that every childhood memory I have has her in it. She’s a constant in the fact that every time I see a daisy, I’ll remember her. And every time I hear the rain fall, I’ll remember that was one of her favorite sounds. She’s a constant in the friends of hers, like Diana, who I consider to be friends of mine. She’s a constant in the fact that she is the link that holds so many of us together.
Posted by
Melissa
at
9:26 AM
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Grief and Google
Okay… so grief sucks. Not that I am revealing one of life’s greatest mysteries or anything, but I have come to the conclusion that grief sucks.
I went to one of my favorite websites… Google. Google has the answers to everything. Type in a word or question, and Google has the answer. Bad hair day? Google has hair tips. Need a new computer or the latest gadget? Google can show you where to get it, and the best price. Looking for an out-of-print book from your childhood? Google’s on it. Looking for a friend you’ve lost touch with? Google can give you addresses, phone numbers, and probably what they ate for breakfast that morning. But what does Google say about grief?
Well I typed in “grief” and it came back with 29,200,000 hits in 0.07 seconds. And even beyond that, it gives you separate searches related to grief; such as grief stages, grief cycle, grief symptoms, grieving, grief steps..
That’s a little daunting….
I tried some other phrases too:
2,240,000 hits for loss of sister in 0.27 seconds
3,720,000 hits for loss of child in 0.18 seconds
1,580,000 hits for loss of grandchild in 0.27 seconds
5,470,000 hits for loss of friend in 0.20 seconds
Okay, so far.. Google is living up to it’s reputation of having all the answers….
But back to grief…. since that’s the common theme among our loss. What does grief mean? According to Webster Online, courtesy of…. yep, Google… grief is defined as:
grief , noun.
Deep mental anguish, as that arising from bereavement.
[Middle English, from Old French, from grever, to harm, aggrieve. See grieve.]
A source of deep mental anguish.
Annoyance or frustration: Trying to follow their directions was nothing but grief.
Trouble or difficulty: the griefs of trying to meet a deadline.
Archaic. A grievance.
The Thesaurus lists…
grief , noun
Mental anguish or pain caused by loss or despair: heartache, heartbreak, sorrow.
That doesn’t really tell me anything. Sure, it explains what it is… but it doesn’t explain how to deal with it.
So I started looking through some of those 29,200,000 sites Google provided for me.
There are online grief support groups, free coping with grief pamphlets, articles on how to make it easier to cope, therapy and counseling websites, mental health websites, poems, articles, stories, books, links to create grief journals…. and so on and so on.
I did click on the related search “grief symptoms”. You know, thought I’d better check and see if I had any. (haha) So anyway, one site I clicked on was “Coping with Grief and Loss: Guide to Grieving and Bereavement”. And maybe this is just my caustic sense of humor, but I found this sentence on their site funny: “There is no right or wrong way to grieve — but there are ways to make your grieving more complete and more positive.”
More complete and more positive? Talk about an odd choice of words. Positive would be not having to go through this in the first place. But I digress. The website actually is very informative, and has a lot of good information on it.
Back to my search on grief. Google is failing me this time. Sure, it has thousands upon thousands of websites dealing with the subject of grief. More information than I could probably ever sort through. But maybe what I’m looking for is not the answer to what grief is, or how to deal with it, or what the symptoms are (which by the way, in case you are wondering… according to Google, I do have them). I think what I want to know is when does it stop hurting? When do I get through a day without tearing up? When does a sudden reminder of Emily stop making my heart stand still? I want to know why Emily wouldn’t take care of herself. I want to know why she got diabetes in the first place. I want to know why now? I want to know why she didn’t call me and tell me she wasn’t feeling well. I want to know why she battled depression. I want to know what the reason for all of this is. And unfortunately, Google can’t answer those questions for me. Now, I love God with all my heart, with all my soul. And I can honestly say that I am not angry at God- He has been the one thing that I can cling to in all of this. But I wish He could give me some answers. I wish He had His own search engine. Instead of “Ask Jeeves”, “Ask God”. I bet His results are more helpful than Google’s.
I went to one of my favorite websites… Google. Google has the answers to everything. Type in a word or question, and Google has the answer. Bad hair day? Google has hair tips. Need a new computer or the latest gadget? Google can show you where to get it, and the best price. Looking for an out-of-print book from your childhood? Google’s on it. Looking for a friend you’ve lost touch with? Google can give you addresses, phone numbers, and probably what they ate for breakfast that morning. But what does Google say about grief?
Well I typed in “grief” and it came back with 29,200,000 hits in 0.07 seconds. And even beyond that, it gives you separate searches related to grief; such as grief stages, grief cycle, grief symptoms, grieving, grief steps..
That’s a little daunting….
I tried some other phrases too:
2,240,000 hits for loss of sister in 0.27 seconds
3,720,000 hits for loss of child in 0.18 seconds
1,580,000 hits for loss of grandchild in 0.27 seconds
5,470,000 hits for loss of friend in 0.20 seconds
Okay, so far.. Google is living up to it’s reputation of having all the answers….
But back to grief…. since that’s the common theme among our loss. What does grief mean? According to Webster Online, courtesy of…. yep, Google… grief is defined as:
grief , noun.
Deep mental anguish, as that arising from bereavement.
[Middle English, from Old French, from grever, to harm, aggrieve. See grieve.]
A source of deep mental anguish.
Annoyance or frustration: Trying to follow their directions was nothing but grief.
Trouble or difficulty: the griefs of trying to meet a deadline.
Archaic. A grievance.
The Thesaurus lists…
grief , noun
Mental anguish or pain caused by loss or despair: heartache, heartbreak, sorrow.
That doesn’t really tell me anything. Sure, it explains what it is… but it doesn’t explain how to deal with it.
So I started looking through some of those 29,200,000 sites Google provided for me.
There are online grief support groups, free coping with grief pamphlets, articles on how to make it easier to cope, therapy and counseling websites, mental health websites, poems, articles, stories, books, links to create grief journals…. and so on and so on.
I did click on the related search “grief symptoms”. You know, thought I’d better check and see if I had any. (haha) So anyway, one site I clicked on was “Coping with Grief and Loss: Guide to Grieving and Bereavement”. And maybe this is just my caustic sense of humor, but I found this sentence on their site funny: “There is no right or wrong way to grieve — but there are ways to make your grieving more complete and more positive.”
More complete and more positive? Talk about an odd choice of words. Positive would be not having to go through this in the first place. But I digress. The website actually is very informative, and has a lot of good information on it.
Back to my search on grief. Google is failing me this time. Sure, it has thousands upon thousands of websites dealing with the subject of grief. More information than I could probably ever sort through. But maybe what I’m looking for is not the answer to what grief is, or how to deal with it, or what the symptoms are (which by the way, in case you are wondering… according to Google, I do have them). I think what I want to know is when does it stop hurting? When do I get through a day without tearing up? When does a sudden reminder of Emily stop making my heart stand still? I want to know why Emily wouldn’t take care of herself. I want to know why she got diabetes in the first place. I want to know why now? I want to know why she didn’t call me and tell me she wasn’t feeling well. I want to know why she battled depression. I want to know what the reason for all of this is. And unfortunately, Google can’t answer those questions for me. Now, I love God with all my heart, with all my soul. And I can honestly say that I am not angry at God- He has been the one thing that I can cling to in all of this. But I wish He could give me some answers. I wish He had His own search engine. Instead of “Ask Jeeves”, “Ask God”. I bet His results are more helpful than Google’s.
Posted by
Melissa
at
9:51 AM
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
A Funny Memory....
I was driving to work this morning, and I remembered a funny Emily story…
About a year ago, or maybe two, Emily was going to a concert with some friends in Philadelphia. She was going to pick up a friend at school on the way- somewhere in Delaware I think. That afternoon, Emily called me at work. Here’s how the conversation played out:
Me: “Good afternoon, this is Melissa”.
Em: “Hi it’s me. I have a really dumb question.”
Me: “I probably have a really dumb answer, what’s up?”
Em: “Okay, I’m on my way to pick up Laura for this concert. I’m on the highway, and there’s three lanes of traffic. Which lane do I need to be in?”
Me: “What do you mean which lane do you need to be in?”
Em: “Well, I’ve never driven on a highway with more than two lanes. Which one should I be driving in?”
Me: “It depends on how fast you are driving…”
Em: (interrupting) “Well, right now I’m in the middle lane and I’m not going very fast at all.”
Me: “why not?”
Em: “Because I’m behind an 18-wheeler and he’s going really slow.”
Me: “Then pass him.”
Em: “I can’t, I don’t know which way he’s turning.”
Me: “what do you mean you don’t know which way he’s turning?”
Em: “He’s got both his turn signals on!!!”
Me: “Emily…”
Very, very long pause while I try my hardest to keep from laughing at her.
Me: “Emily, those are his four way flashers.”
Em: “His what?!”
Me: “His four way flashers! That means he’s going slower than the rest of traffic. You can pass him he’s not turning.”
(a giggle slips out.)
Em: “Are you laughing at me?????”
Me: can’t hold it in anymore and loses it…
Em: “click”
About a year ago, or maybe two, Emily was going to a concert with some friends in Philadelphia. She was going to pick up a friend at school on the way- somewhere in Delaware I think. That afternoon, Emily called me at work. Here’s how the conversation played out:
Me: “Good afternoon, this is Melissa”.
Em: “Hi it’s me. I have a really dumb question.”
Me: “I probably have a really dumb answer, what’s up?”
Em: “Okay, I’m on my way to pick up Laura for this concert. I’m on the highway, and there’s three lanes of traffic. Which lane do I need to be in?”
Me: “What do you mean which lane do you need to be in?”
Em: “Well, I’ve never driven on a highway with more than two lanes. Which one should I be driving in?”
Me: “It depends on how fast you are driving…”
Em: (interrupting) “Well, right now I’m in the middle lane and I’m not going very fast at all.”
Me: “why not?”
Em: “Because I’m behind an 18-wheeler and he’s going really slow.”
Me: “Then pass him.”
Em: “I can’t, I don’t know which way he’s turning.”
Me: “what do you mean you don’t know which way he’s turning?”
Em: “He’s got both his turn signals on!!!”
Me: “Emily…”
Very, very long pause while I try my hardest to keep from laughing at her.
Me: “Emily, those are his four way flashers.”
Em: “His what?!”
Me: “His four way flashers! That means he’s going slower than the rest of traffic. You can pass him he’s not turning.”
(a giggle slips out.)
Em: “Are you laughing at me?????”
Me: can’t hold it in anymore and loses it…
Em: “click”
Posted by
Melissa
at
11:09 AM
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Things I miss....
I miss hearing her set her car alarm when she came home. You always knew Emily was coming through the door once you heard that beep.
I miss her calling me at work to ask me stupid questions. I would pretend to get mad, but secretly I looked forward to her calling me.
I miss going to the movies with her.
I miss her text messaging me "Rabbit, Rabbit" on the first of the month.
I miss watching endless episodes of Friends.
I miss fighting with her to clean up the mess she left in the sink after she brushed her teeth.
I miss hearing her laugh.
I miss her smile.
I miss late nights watching movies and eating Doritos....
I miss fussing at her for leaving her test strips all over the place.
I miss her trying to name all the fish in the aquarium.
I miss e-mailing her jokes, and then having to explain them to her because she didn't get it.
I miss all the things I should have asked her about that I never did....
I just miss her.
I miss her calling me at work to ask me stupid questions. I would pretend to get mad, but secretly I looked forward to her calling me.
I miss going to the movies with her.
I miss her text messaging me "Rabbit, Rabbit" on the first of the month.
I miss watching endless episodes of Friends.
I miss fighting with her to clean up the mess she left in the sink after she brushed her teeth.
I miss hearing her laugh.
I miss her smile.
I miss late nights watching movies and eating Doritos....
I miss fussing at her for leaving her test strips all over the place.
I miss her trying to name all the fish in the aquarium.
I miss e-mailing her jokes, and then having to explain them to her because she didn't get it.
I miss all the things I should have asked her about that I never did....
I just miss her.
Posted by
Melissa
at
8:22 AM
Monday, April 14, 2008
A verse from Isaiah...
"I am He who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you."
~Isaiah 46:4
I read this verse a few months ago, and it really spoke to my heart. At the time I read it, I was having some trouble with my heart- and this verse really helped calm some of my anxieties. I was a promise that God would carry me through my physical issues. (Which turned out to be nothing to be concerned about.)
Now, in light of what's happened with Emily... this verse holds a new promise. A promise that God will sustain me through the grief, the confusion, even the anger that I am sure is coming. And the promise that He will be there to carry me...because right now I think that's the only thing that is keeping me from falling.
I find myself holding it together for the most part. But then something simple... like finding the stuffed dog I gave her when she had her wisdom teeth taken out is enough to bring me to my knees. I'm afraid to let go and cry, because I am afraid once I start I'll never stop... but I'm more of afraid of the day that comes when those things don't make me cry anymore.
~Isaiah 46:4
I read this verse a few months ago, and it really spoke to my heart. At the time I read it, I was having some trouble with my heart- and this verse really helped calm some of my anxieties. I was a promise that God would carry me through my physical issues. (Which turned out to be nothing to be concerned about.)
Now, in light of what's happened with Emily... this verse holds a new promise. A promise that God will sustain me through the grief, the confusion, even the anger that I am sure is coming. And the promise that He will be there to carry me...because right now I think that's the only thing that is keeping me from falling.
I find myself holding it together for the most part. But then something simple... like finding the stuffed dog I gave her when she had her wisdom teeth taken out is enough to bring me to my knees. I'm afraid to let go and cry, because I am afraid once I start I'll never stop... but I'm more of afraid of the day that comes when those things don't make me cry anymore.
Posted by
Melissa
at
8:14 AM
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Joy in the midst of sorrow
There was something compelling about her. She was difficult and obstinate, and when she was off her depression medication, she could be very cruel. But that wasn't really Emily... because she was always so apologetic, and she had a heart of gold. She knew when she had been wrong, and she did everything she could to fix it. There were so many times I wanted to give up on her because it was too dang hard and painful.... but I couldn't. Because even though I didn't understand what she was going through, I couldn't give up on her because she was my sister. Because she was the other half of me, and without her I wouldn't be whole. I miss her so much, it hurts to breathe.
Joy in the Midst of Sorrow
by: Melissa Norman
I thought I heard your laughter
I thought I saw you there
I reached out for your hand
But found only emptiness there.
I heard you call my name
I close my eyes and see your face
Now all I have is your memory
and it will never be the same
There's a sorrow deeper than any words
There's an aching deep inside
There's a heart that's raw from weeping
fron the grief I cannot hide.
Yet I have joy in the midst
of all my pain and sorrow
I have God's strength
to make it through tomorrow.
There are glimpses of grace
I see even in all my grief
There is a Comforter who heals
whose pure love brings relief
I have joy in the sorrow
for I know this is not the end
and that even the most broken of hearts
is never beyond what God can mend.
Joy in the Midst of Sorrow
by: Melissa Norman
I thought I heard your laughter
I thought I saw you there
I reached out for your hand
But found only emptiness there.
I heard you call my name
I close my eyes and see your face
Now all I have is your memory
and it will never be the same
There's a sorrow deeper than any words
There's an aching deep inside
There's a heart that's raw from weeping
fron the grief I cannot hide.
Yet I have joy in the midst
of all my pain and sorrow
I have God's strength
to make it through tomorrow.
There are glimpses of grace
I see even in all my grief
There is a Comforter who heals
whose pure love brings relief
I have joy in the sorrow
for I know this is not the end
and that even the most broken of hearts
is never beyond what God can mend.
Posted by
Melissa
at
11:30 PM
Things not to do....
Don't keep asking "what can I do". When you're going through something like this, you're lucky you can think enough to remember what your name is. I know people want to help... but it's too hard to try and think of something. And chances are there isn't anything anyway. What you need is someone to say "I'm here. I'm sharing your sorrow. I love you, and this totally sucks" Sometimes that's enough.
If you bring food- stuff that can be frozen is great. Stuff that can be eaten in the weeks after people have stopped bringing lunchmeat and potato salad. Not that those items aren't appreciated.... but you get alot of it. Better yet... just bring cake.
Don't ask how I am doing if you don't really want to know the answer.
Do not say that she is in a better place. Even though it's true... it is so not what we want to hear.
Don't feel like you have to say something.
Do not tell me that you never had a sister, and that I was lucky to have her even if it was only for 20 years. Stuff like that hurts, and 20 years was not long enough.
Don't tell me that time will heal my wounds. I know that.. but right now I want to grieve.
Don't tell me how to grieve.
If you bring food- stuff that can be frozen is great. Stuff that can be eaten in the weeks after people have stopped bringing lunchmeat and potato salad. Not that those items aren't appreciated.... but you get alot of it. Better yet... just bring cake.
Don't ask how I am doing if you don't really want to know the answer.
Do not say that she is in a better place. Even though it's true... it is so not what we want to hear.
Don't feel like you have to say something.
Do not tell me that you never had a sister, and that I was lucky to have her even if it was only for 20 years. Stuff like that hurts, and 20 years was not long enough.
Don't tell me that time will heal my wounds. I know that.. but right now I want to grieve.
Don't tell me how to grieve.
Posted by
Melissa
at
12:24 AM
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Pastor Mike's Sermon
I wanted to post the sermon gave from the service on Saturday. Not only the memories of Emily, but the message he gave about hope and faith in God was absolutely wonderful.
In the next few days I'd also like to post both what Diana and I also said at the service.
Emily Ruth Norman
(2 Corinthians 4:14-5:1 Matthew 11:25-30)
Peggi, Wayne, Melissa... I cannot begin to know the depth of your pain, the countless questions or the extent of the confusion you have been feeling these past few days and are, surely, experiencing this morning. I am sure that what is in your hearts is love- yet, it has to be a love muddled with many other emotions, sentiments, and feelings.
And there are many others of you here- grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, Emily's friends from college, friends of the Norman family, friends here from this church- and if I could, I'd lift the pain that each of you feels within you, the grief and confusion that flows from deep within your hearts. It would be great to answer all the unanswered questions. But that's not our purpose today.
Might I be so bold as to suggest that our purpose here today is to go deep within ourselves to that place where we can come to believe that there is something greater than life as we live it and life as we know it each day. And if we can get to that place within us, then I want to believe that we can leave this church today, at the conclusion of this service, with a claim of hope.
And so, on this day when it would be so easy for us to become disoriented, having to pinch ourselves to believe this is really happening, on this day when we could all spin blindly into a space that would serve us no purpose, I would like to move in three directions.
1.) I would like to proclaim God!
2.) I would like to wonder togethere what God might be saying to us?
3.) I would like to conclude with a story of hope for the future.
What can I possibly say about God on a day like this?
The god who turns red lights green or who magically creates a parking space in front of the doughnut shop when we drive up, is not the God we worship today. The god who causes hurricanes or tsunamis in order to punish non-Christians or poor people, or the god who gives brownie points for good behavior, and (yes, to say to all the college students here!)or the god who gets us an "A" on a test even when we did not study, is not the god we speak of this morning. The god who makes bad things happen to good people is not the God we speak of here today! Let me be clear: these are all false gods, and these false gods have no place in this church this morning.
The God we proclaim this morning in song, in Scripture and in word is a creator God, a God who wants to go on creating life in each one of our lives. The God we profess today is the God who raised Jesus from the grave, the God who can raise each one of us from our tombs of pain and sadness and want and fear. The God we celebrate today is the Good Shepherd who, I believe, did not abandon Emily in those last moments of confusion, neglect, or misunderstanding, the same God who does not leave any one of us orphaned- regardless of how angry, how sad, how afraid, isolated, confused we may have felt these past few days and might be feeling at this very moment. The God we celebrate today can birth life even when everything around us appears numb and lifeless.
The God we worship today is a God larger than we are, a God more understanding, a God more loving than we can ever imagine!
What might God be saying to us?
In the Corinthian text, we are given a glimpse of St. Paul's intense love for God, a love which totally overwhelms any fear or fright associated with dying. It is Paul's challenge to live by faith because the glory we await is beyong anything we might imagine. The Gospel text emphasizes Jesus' relationship with His Father, but as a model of the gift of being in relationship with a God who calls us to faithfulness, especially being faithful to love and compassion. It is this God of love and compassion who will never send us away, and in fact, invites us to enter more deeply into God, most especially when we are weary and burdened with the cares of our lives. The invitation is to bring to God whatever it is that we are carrying with us today, and in the days to come.
I will also add that God speaks to us through each other, through who we are and how we live our lives. And I think of Emily. As I look at so many people here today, I realize that you all knew Emily in different ways, for different lengths of time and to varying degrees. But I suspect we all might agree that Emily walked to the beat of a different drummer. She walked her own path. Maybe she could be (and I say this most lovingly) a pain in the butt, but with a heart of gold. I loved it when Melissa told me the other day, "Emily would often break one of my toys, but then she would always bring me one of her own toys to give to me."
From how I knew Emily and to what I've heard others say about her, I would say with certainty that Emily liked to push the limits; she always pushed the boundaries; she liked to color outside the box.
And I might suggest that may be the very way God is speaking to us here today. For anyone who knows anything about the life of Jesus, you know that Jesus always colored outside the box. That's what got Jesus into trouble all the time, especially with those in authority. He walked to His own drummer. Might I suggest that just as Emily loved to push the limits, today we need to push the limits of God's love and concern for us? In fact, God's love has no limits! That's God's word to us today and everyday!
Finally, I like to conclude with a story.
It is a real story, one that has been recorded in many places, some of you may remember this when it happened. This took place during the Bosnian War in 1992. It's the story of Vedran Smailovic, a Bosnian man born in Sarajevo. He came from a highly musical family. He was the principal cellist of the prestigious Sarajevo Opera Theater. But during that time period, Smailovic described Sarajevo as the "capital of hell." The city lay in ruins. The economy had been shattered. Any hope of reuniting the country dwindled each day. Then, on May 27, 1992, a long line of starving, helpess people was shelled as they waited in line in front of the only bakery, waiting to get flour to bake bread. Twenty-two people died in the attack, and Vedran Smailovic saw all that had happened from his apartment window less than 100 yards away. The very next day, another line was formed by hungry people. When he realized the swell of hope in those people who returned that next day, risking death once more, Vedran, dressed in the black suit and tie he wore when playing until the Opera House was destroyed, came out on the sidewalk, carrying his cello and a chair.
He sat down right in the rubble of the square and, surrounded by debris and the remnants of death and despair of the living, began to play his cello. And he returned for twenty-one days to do the same. Over and over, these were the sounds reminding those present that there are some things in a human being that simply cannot be supressed.
Today in the place where he sat is a monument of a man in a chair playing a cello. But the monument is not to Smailovic's music. The monument serves as a reminder to his refusal to surrender hope- the hope that life can be reborn, even when we are surrounded by the debris and remnants of death, even when our lives might feel like a living hell.
Please excuse the language: the most hellish parts of these past few days has been to see you- Peggi, Wayne, Melissa- go through this. But what would be so much worse, what will be so much worse, would be for any of you, or any one of us here, to give up hope, to surrender the belief that life and beauty can be reborn.
The story out of Bosnia is a story of Resurrection. It is a story of Easter. It is the story of faith. Because of Jesus Christ, our story, your story is one of Resurrection and Life, the story of our forever faithful and loving God- refusing to surrender hope so that life can be born, and reborn. May the power of such hope in our loving God be the healing of our hearts and our lives in the days to come. Amen.
Pastor Michael E. Allwein
In the next few days I'd also like to post both what Diana and I also said at the service.
Emily Ruth Norman
(2 Corinthians 4:14-5:1 Matthew 11:25-30)
Peggi, Wayne, Melissa... I cannot begin to know the depth of your pain, the countless questions or the extent of the confusion you have been feeling these past few days and are, surely, experiencing this morning. I am sure that what is in your hearts is love- yet, it has to be a love muddled with many other emotions, sentiments, and feelings.
And there are many others of you here- grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, Emily's friends from college, friends of the Norman family, friends here from this church- and if I could, I'd lift the pain that each of you feels within you, the grief and confusion that flows from deep within your hearts. It would be great to answer all the unanswered questions. But that's not our purpose today.
Might I be so bold as to suggest that our purpose here today is to go deep within ourselves to that place where we can come to believe that there is something greater than life as we live it and life as we know it each day. And if we can get to that place within us, then I want to believe that we can leave this church today, at the conclusion of this service, with a claim of hope.
And so, on this day when it would be so easy for us to become disoriented, having to pinch ourselves to believe this is really happening, on this day when we could all spin blindly into a space that would serve us no purpose, I would like to move in three directions.
1.) I would like to proclaim God!
2.) I would like to wonder togethere what God might be saying to us?
3.) I would like to conclude with a story of hope for the future.
What can I possibly say about God on a day like this?
The god who turns red lights green or who magically creates a parking space in front of the doughnut shop when we drive up, is not the God we worship today. The god who causes hurricanes or tsunamis in order to punish non-Christians or poor people, or the god who gives brownie points for good behavior, and (yes, to say to all the college students here!)or the god who gets us an "A" on a test even when we did not study, is not the god we speak of this morning. The god who makes bad things happen to good people is not the God we speak of here today! Let me be clear: these are all false gods, and these false gods have no place in this church this morning.
The God we proclaim this morning in song, in Scripture and in word is a creator God, a God who wants to go on creating life in each one of our lives. The God we profess today is the God who raised Jesus from the grave, the God who can raise each one of us from our tombs of pain and sadness and want and fear. The God we celebrate today is the Good Shepherd who, I believe, did not abandon Emily in those last moments of confusion, neglect, or misunderstanding, the same God who does not leave any one of us orphaned- regardless of how angry, how sad, how afraid, isolated, confused we may have felt these past few days and might be feeling at this very moment. The God we celebrate today can birth life even when everything around us appears numb and lifeless.
The God we worship today is a God larger than we are, a God more understanding, a God more loving than we can ever imagine!
What might God be saying to us?
In the Corinthian text, we are given a glimpse of St. Paul's intense love for God, a love which totally overwhelms any fear or fright associated with dying. It is Paul's challenge to live by faith because the glory we await is beyong anything we might imagine. The Gospel text emphasizes Jesus' relationship with His Father, but as a model of the gift of being in relationship with a God who calls us to faithfulness, especially being faithful to love and compassion. It is this God of love and compassion who will never send us away, and in fact, invites us to enter more deeply into God, most especially when we are weary and burdened with the cares of our lives. The invitation is to bring to God whatever it is that we are carrying with us today, and in the days to come.
I will also add that God speaks to us through each other, through who we are and how we live our lives. And I think of Emily. As I look at so many people here today, I realize that you all knew Emily in different ways, for different lengths of time and to varying degrees. But I suspect we all might agree that Emily walked to the beat of a different drummer. She walked her own path. Maybe she could be (and I say this most lovingly) a pain in the butt, but with a heart of gold. I loved it when Melissa told me the other day, "Emily would often break one of my toys, but then she would always bring me one of her own toys to give to me."
From how I knew Emily and to what I've heard others say about her, I would say with certainty that Emily liked to push the limits; she always pushed the boundaries; she liked to color outside the box.
And I might suggest that may be the very way God is speaking to us here today. For anyone who knows anything about the life of Jesus, you know that Jesus always colored outside the box. That's what got Jesus into trouble all the time, especially with those in authority. He walked to His own drummer. Might I suggest that just as Emily loved to push the limits, today we need to push the limits of God's love and concern for us? In fact, God's love has no limits! That's God's word to us today and everyday!
Finally, I like to conclude with a story.
It is a real story, one that has been recorded in many places, some of you may remember this when it happened. This took place during the Bosnian War in 1992. It's the story of Vedran Smailovic, a Bosnian man born in Sarajevo. He came from a highly musical family. He was the principal cellist of the prestigious Sarajevo Opera Theater. But during that time period, Smailovic described Sarajevo as the "capital of hell." The city lay in ruins. The economy had been shattered. Any hope of reuniting the country dwindled each day. Then, on May 27, 1992, a long line of starving, helpess people was shelled as they waited in line in front of the only bakery, waiting to get flour to bake bread. Twenty-two people died in the attack, and Vedran Smailovic saw all that had happened from his apartment window less than 100 yards away. The very next day, another line was formed by hungry people. When he realized the swell of hope in those people who returned that next day, risking death once more, Vedran, dressed in the black suit and tie he wore when playing until the Opera House was destroyed, came out on the sidewalk, carrying his cello and a chair.
He sat down right in the rubble of the square and, surrounded by debris and the remnants of death and despair of the living, began to play his cello. And he returned for twenty-one days to do the same. Over and over, these were the sounds reminding those present that there are some things in a human being that simply cannot be supressed.
Today in the place where he sat is a monument of a man in a chair playing a cello. But the monument is not to Smailovic's music. The monument serves as a reminder to his refusal to surrender hope- the hope that life can be reborn, even when we are surrounded by the debris and remnants of death, even when our lives might feel like a living hell.
Please excuse the language: the most hellish parts of these past few days has been to see you- Peggi, Wayne, Melissa- go through this. But what would be so much worse, what will be so much worse, would be for any of you, or any one of us here, to give up hope, to surrender the belief that life and beauty can be reborn.
The story out of Bosnia is a story of Resurrection. It is a story of Easter. It is the story of faith. Because of Jesus Christ, our story, your story is one of Resurrection and Life, the story of our forever faithful and loving God- refusing to surrender hope so that life can be born, and reborn. May the power of such hope in our loving God be the healing of our hearts and our lives in the days to come. Amen.
Pastor Michael E. Allwein
Posted by
Melissa
at
9:45 AM
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
One week...
Emmy, it's been a week since I heard the news that you had left us. It seems like it's been forever, and yet only yesterday. I still don't want to believe it's true. I keep kicking myself that I didn't call you when I got back from South Carolina on Monday. I figured you'd be calling me at work like you always do, and I'd talk to you then. I've learned the hard way to never wait. If I'd known the last time I'd ever hug you would have been three weeks ago- I'd never have let go. If I'd known the last time I would hear your voice was two weeks ago- I'd never have hung up the phone. If I'd known we'd only have 20 years, I'd have used those moments so much better.
But the fact is we can't know. All we can do is do better. I just wish I had realized it sooner.
Emmy, we are all so lost without you. I hope that you could see all the people who were there on Saturday. I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people you have touched. I hope you know how loved you are. And how much you are missed.
It's going to be so hard... but I'll never forget. It's like the ee cummings poem says, "i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)"
But the fact is we can't know. All we can do is do better. I just wish I had realized it sooner.
Emmy, we are all so lost without you. I hope that you could see all the people who were there on Saturday. I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people you have touched. I hope you know how loved you are. And how much you are missed.
It's going to be so hard... but I'll never forget. It's like the ee cummings poem says, "i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)"
Posted by
Melissa
at
3:57 PM
A place to share
I've started this as a way to honor my sister's memory. Since Emily died last Tuesday, stories and recollections have been passed back and forth between family and friends. Stories that I hadn't heard in a long time, and ones that I didn't even know. I don't want to lose those memories, so I created a place for all of us who love her to share them with each other, to remember, and to heal.
I'll post more later in the day. For now I've just included her obituary for this first post.
Emily Ruth Norman
The Record Herald
Fri Apr 04, 2008, 10:50 AM EDT
Story Tools:
Greencastle, Pa. -
EMILY RUTH NORMAN, 20, of 328 Carolle St., Greencastle, died Tuesday, April 1, 2008, in her townhouse apartment in Shippensburg from complications of diabetes.Born July 12, 1987, at Andrews Air Force Base, Md., she was the daughter of Wayne and Margaret S. "Peggi" Plummer) Norman of 328 Carolle St., Greencastle.
She was a current student at Harrisburg Area Community College and formerly attended Shippensburg University, where she was a member of the choir and Kappa Delta Pi sorority.
Miss Norman was a 2005 graduate of Greencastle-Antrim High School, where she was a member of the band, choir, National Honor Society and indoor guard.She was a member of Solomons Evangelical Lutheran Church, Chambersburg.
In addition to her parents, she is survived by one sister, Melissa C. Norman of Greencastle; maternal grandparents, Richard and Catherine Plummer of Fairless Hills;
paternal grandparents, Wayne Sr. and Ellen Norman of Media;
boyfriend, Michael Perry of Rolla, Mo.;
and a number of aunts, uncles and cousins.
She was preceded in death by one infant sister, Rebecca Norman, in 1981.
A memorial service will be held at 11 a.m. Saturday in Solomons Evangelical Lutheran Church, 4856 Wayne Road, Chambersburg, with the Rev. Michael E. Allwein officiating.
Burial will be in Emilie Methodist Church Cemetery, Levittown, at the convenience of the family.There will be no public viewing.
In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be made to St. Jude Children’s Hospital, 501 St. Jude Place, Memphis, Tenn. 38105.
Arrangements were made by Harold M. Zimmerman and Son Funeral Home, Greencastle.
Posted by
Melissa
at
10:53 AM
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)