So many thoughts come rushing in when you’re sitting at a funeral. It’s
\nlike a whirlwind, really, looking at faces and wondering what’s going
\nin his or her mind or how is this person staying strong. Sometimes
\nyou’ll catch snippets of conversation, reflections on “how great” the
\ndeceased looks. I found myself tapping into that whirlwind to try to
\nsuppress the sensation of self-loathing that I felt caught somewhere
\nbetween my eyes and throat.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I honestly didn’t know her all that well. She freelanced for me here
\nand there; really did more work for some other people around me than
\nfor me personally. I’ve seen her in the hallways and nodded an
\noccasional hello and one time, when she filled in for someone else, she
\nsat in near proximity as a cubicle mate. I would crack some jokes that
\nshe seemed to enjoy. I’ve even bumped into her a couple of times in
\nlocal diner, peripherally meeting her (then) fiancé. <\/p>\n
The first year of her marriage she got cancer. She was optimistic
\nwhen she went to the doctors. She was forced to put off trying to
\nconceive while she and her husband focused on this problem. At one
\npoint, the cancer appeared to go into remission. After rounds of
\nchemotherapy, a mastectomy and eighteen long months, Denise died. <\/p>\n
I sat in the funeral home; five rows back, trying to shut off my
\nmemory. I hardly knew her…but I squandered those brief moments of
\ncontact. I remember one time, in the hallway I stopped her and asked
\nher “How do you feel?” and she opened up to me. Told me about the
\nfierce battle and the raging emotions inside of her and even of her
\nloss of faith. <\/p>\n
I said something along the lines of “with God all things are
\npossible” but not as eloquent. She told me about consulting alternate
\nhealing and visiting some Reiki Healer…trying everything possible to
\nget better. This old spiritualistic guy near by started praising her
\neffort in finding comfort in spirituality since “it’s all good for the
\nsoul”. It was a moment where I could’ve spoken about Christ and the
\nhope in Him alone beyond this life. A moment where I could’ve tried to
\nbridge some hope to her present suffering and the salvation found in
\nHim. A moment that I said nothing, told her that I’m still praying for
\nher, and went back to my cubicle. <\/p>\n
Whenever I saw her after that I didn’t ask her questions nor did I offer anything either. <\/p>\n
Weeping all around me. People wearing shoes because “Denise thought
\nthey were funny and she appreciates this”, a husband putting on a
\nstrong face as his thirty-seven year old wife lies in an open casket a
\nmere five feet away—and me, realizing I let her and my Lord down. <\/p>\n
A co-worker next to me told me that I shouldn’t take on any guilt. I
\ntold her that I felt like a jerk for not speaking to Denise more but
\nnot why I felt like a jerk. I never told her of the cross and what it
\nmeant and although this life may end there is another life and a
\nredeemed life to be…that one glorious day her body will be renewed… <\/p>\n
Never told her. <\/p>\n
I took a funeral card and left with the gospel still stuck in my
\nthroat. In my mind a whirlwind of theologies try to absolve my guilt
\nthat I know my conscience never will. <\/p>\n
-r-<\/em><\/p>\n MCF thinks about her<\/a>. Jerry thinks about her<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" So many thoughts come rushing in when you’re sitting at a funeral. It’s like a whirlwind, really, looking at faces and wondering what’s going in his or her mind or how is this person staying strong. Sometimes you’ll catch snippets of conversation, reflections on “how great” the deceased looks. I found myself tapping into that […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[21],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-496","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-personal"],"yoast_head":"\n