It's been several weeks since this happened, but I've been feeling compelled to write on this, so here goes.....
Several weeks ago I saw a post in my Facebook feed for a fundraiser in my high school hometown for my friend's mother. She had been diagnosed with cancer and it was at an advanced stage. Days later came the post that she had passed. It was one of those life moments that hit me in so many ways. I realized how long it had been since I'd been to my high school hometown (I have a different childhood hometown). I realized that we're reaching a time in our life when we will begin to lose our parents. I realized I'm getting old when I calculated the years that have passed since I last saw her. She worked at our high school so I saw her almost daily in those years. I hadn't seen her in 15 years, but I felt compelled to attend her funeral. I wasn't sure why, but I was being called to go. So I did.
The drive was the quietest I've had in years. I was solo and it was storming (California style) so I chose not to be on my phone as I normally would, calling to visit with Grandma or Kelsi or other people I don't get to talk to often enough. My memory is terrible but I spent the drive thinking of her and trying to figure out why I felt so compelled to attend her service. I could hear her voice and laugh, I could see her in her kitchen, in the school gym after a basketball game, and on the lawn at lunch.
She was the mother of my boyfriend in high school. Paul. My first love. When I say that it sounds super corny, but I'll come back to it's significance.
The drive was windy and wet so I got there right on time and sat alone in the back. Even though the church building was new, everything felt familiar. Her daughter sounded just like her. I knew every word to every hymn that was played, and as How Great Thou Art played I could hear my mother singing in church when I was a kid. Her brother sang In the Garden, and again, my own mother came to mind. God was speaking to me.
Let me change gears. When I moved to Fresno, I had just married my first husband. My hometown, and all of the people in it were behind me. I kept very few connections, and Paul wasn't one of them. Shortly after I moved here, Paul began appearing in my dreams. It wasn't that we were back together in the dreams, he was just present. I couldn't figure out why he was there since I never saw or spoke to him. As time passed, he was there more often. My first marriage failed, and the dreams continued.
As I sat in the funeral service, I felt God speaking to me. As the hymns played I mouthed the words, envisioning my mother singing in my childhood. It was all so familiar. It was like the first time Matt took me home to meet his family, that same feeling of comfort. Like I was home. I never really thought Paul's family was much like mine, but at her service I realized-there is familiarity in faith.
When I met Matt, Paul stopped appearing in my dreams. Once that happened, I realized why he was there in the first place. That was a lesson in what love should be like. Once I had that, he never appeared again. As I sat in the church, considering all the familiar things, I was reminded, God is love.
Gabby is my high school BFF. She was the first person I reached out to when I saw the
notice for the funeral. "Why do I feel so drawn to go?" To which she
replied, "You need to go. If I were still home I would be there for sure. Go."
As adults our lives could not be any different. She's never been
married, has no children, and dons her bikini to travel the world's
beaches every chance she gets. I'm over here married twice, five kids,
and never donning a bikini again. But when I see her, it's like nothing
has changed, as though no time has passed. We can still communicate just
by looking at each other. She was my confidant during
formative years of my life. No matter the miles or life differences that
separate us, she will always be dear to me. She had a part in
developing my character. Seeing Paul at his mother's service made me
realize that the same is true of him. I may never see or talk to him,
but he is part of who I am and that's why I felt so drawn to go to his mother's service.
There are a lot of shows on TV that I don't let the kids watch because I don't like the message. Gage will often say, "This show doesn't have a message." EVERYTHING sends us a message, everything teaches us something whether we realize it or not. The lessons and reminders from this day were not lost on me.
The day after the funeral this article came up on my feed. http://www.npr.org/2005/08/08/4785079/always-go-to-the-funeral
I'm glad I went.
Hope to write again sooner than later.
Love.
"And He walks with me, and He talks with me, and He tells
me I am His own, and the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has
every known." -In the Garden
