A Day of Mourning

The Handbell Choir played the Anthem at church this morning. Dane, Don and I dressed in our black bottoms, white shirts and red ties - the Handbell Uniform. We stayed for Sunday School after the 9:00 service and pulled in the driveway around 11:30. My neighbor and friend, Jane, was sitting on her screened-in porch with another single woman who's a friend of mine. Jane got up when she saw us pull in and motioned for me to join her and Mary.

She had news she needed to give me in private, away from the ears of my children. Apparently, a friend of ours, a mother of 10 children, including a 5-mo. old baby, passed away during the night. Her husband, who went to high school with me and is a good friend, just started a new job working with hurricane relief in the devastated states. He told me recently how excited he was about this new job but that it would be hard on the family to have him gone for weeks at a time.

Theresa died in her sleep, probably from a heart attack or pulmonary embolism. The children discovered their mother and quickly got help. Theresa's sister lives just several houses down the street and the father's sister (my best friend in high school) and mother live a couple of blocks away, so there's lots of family nearby to help out. The father, Joey, was contacted and is catching a flight home.

I can't even begin to imagine how this family is going to get along without a mother. I can't fathom what Joey must be dealing with as he sits on a plane, waiting to arrive and console his children. And what about the 5-month old baby? Even if Joey were to be able to find a job locally, he won't be in a position to take care of this baby.

This family has at least 3 pre-schoolers and a son who will graduate from high school this year. Who will be there to set out his clothes for him for his last Spring Dance. Who will help these daughters, beautiful young women, to continue their walk of Christian femininity? And the little ones - will they even remember their mother?

I have a million questions and not a single answer. I'm feeling a depth of grief I don't often experience. I keep thinking about the last time I saw Theresa, the last conversation we had, the last time we smiled at each other. I'll hold those memories tight and, someday, when the emotions are not as painful, I'll share them with Joey. I'll try to do my part to help these children remember their lovely, gracious, giving mother. And I'll mourn. I'm sure my mourning is but a drop in the bucket compared to the mourning this family must endure. But, all the same, I'll mourn for a dear friend, I'll mourn for her sweet husband, I'll mourn for the children left behind, and I'll mourn for myself and the fact that I will no longer feel the love that Theresa shared with everyone she knew.