After the doctor left the exam room while I was waiting for a copy of the form. I was checking my email on my Iphone and listening to the built in IPod. The song that was playing was Seasons of Love from Rent.
An email popped up on the screen from our church Annual Conference Office. When a clergy person or spouse dies, condolences are sent to the listserv which I am on. A dear friend of ours from our former town had passed away and this was the first we had heard of it.
I had blogged the words to this song a year ago celebrating the life of a man from our congregation. Ironically, this man was the grandfather of a friend of ours. The woman who died last week was his grandmother on the other side of the family.
I had so many incredible conversations with Bessmary. A great sense of humor, bright, articulate, fun. You can see in her picture the sparkle in her eye. We talked about many many things. When she was still living in her home but lacking in energy to do any real cooking, I would escape our post-dinner mayhem by taking a serving to her and sitting and watching her eat. I made scrapbook pages with her. And then when she was too ill to be in church, we emailed each other jokes. She read this blog and would send me email comments.
The obituary left one piece out that is quite important to me-- she was a foster parent years and years ago. She and I had many long talks about the joys and heartaches of her experience. I don't think she would mind if I quoted an email I received from her in 2005 after she had read a blog entry about something we were going through with Mike that reminded her of a former foster son.
Dear Claudia,
I feel so bad for you and there is nothing I can do. I know you did what you could with Mike and I am so sorry it turned out the way it did. I feel bad for Mike too, who can not see where he was given help, even when he was very unlovable. He may never look back and say, Hey, they were really trying to help me, so don't hold your breath waiting for him to say he is sorry.
Things didn't end well with P and I've always felt bad about it. He does not contact me either......and I really loved him too.
oh no. Now I am bawling now over Mike and P and you. Blessings to you. Bess
Her support was consistent, even when she could seldom leave her home, and she felt what I was feeling. And sometimes that meant more than anything anyone else ever did.
This isn't a great tribute -- not all that articulate or well written as i've been interrupted at least 14 times since I started, but I'll never forget this "IPhone Moment" -- when I sat alone in the exam room, Seasons of Love playing in the background while I wept with sorrow and with joy, celebrating a person whose life was measured in love.
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