My Words for a Funeral
On the morning of Tuesday June 13th 2006, my sister, Linda, died.
We were together nine days before. She was at her home, bed ridden and we were unable to touch for fear of contaminating her. She had no defense against infection and no comfort from a loving hug.
Her skin was dark and finely wrinkled around her neck but stretched smooth across her cheeks and forehead. She was lying deep in a pile of pillows, wrapped in pajamas, a bathrobe, socks and a heavy blanket. She wore a turban pulled tightly over her hairless head.
Life’s heat was leaving her, her body's energy was faltering, she looked at me and without words I knew and she knew that after that day we would never be together again.
That afternoon in her darkened bedroom, the television screen reflected cheerful colors in her eyes. She smiled often, almost laughed more than once.
Dana, her daughter, a beautiful, sprite young woman was smiling broadly, her mother's lovely smile as she bounced around the bedroom.
Chris, Linda’s older son was there, too. Steven, our brother who was in from California, had told Linda that Chris had four beers at lunch.
The drama was a nice diversion at Chris' expense. Linda came back to our world for a moment and forgot her pain within her loving reprimand.
Larry, Linda’s husband arrived after work and fell asleep at the foot of their bed, exhausted. Larry’s battle has been rough, it must have been tough to persevere but he did.
Thankfully, Larry has been with Linda, holding her and loving her through every battle of the war she ultimately lost. Larry Green you are a good man and we love you very much.
Linda was the oldest of four children born to my father Abraham and my mother Florence. Our six lives are entwined deeply beneath the surface of who we think we are.
The connection, mother to father to sister to brother is the primal connection of our spiritual selves, nothing can shake it, and nothing can ever break it, not even death.
Today, sadly, Steven, Paul and I with our mother and father are together to honor Linda’s life and to mourn her death.
And together we will pass through the pain, the indescribable heart break of our loss and we will focus our love, strengthened by the immovable connection between us, on our memories of Linda with both tears and with laughter.
Later today my brothers and I will plant a beautiful, crimson tree in Linda and Larry’s garden. I will let this tree and all of the joy I have during the rest of my life and my children’s lives remind me of the love I hold in my heart for our sister Linda.
I hope you all do the same. Thank you for sharing in our sorrow today.
We were together nine days before. She was at her home, bed ridden and we were unable to touch for fear of contaminating her. She had no defense against infection and no comfort from a loving hug.
Her skin was dark and finely wrinkled around her neck but stretched smooth across her cheeks and forehead. She was lying deep in a pile of pillows, wrapped in pajamas, a bathrobe, socks and a heavy blanket. She wore a turban pulled tightly over her hairless head.
Life’s heat was leaving her, her body's energy was faltering, she looked at me and without words I knew and she knew that after that day we would never be together again.
That afternoon in her darkened bedroom, the television screen reflected cheerful colors in her eyes. She smiled often, almost laughed more than once.
Dana, her daughter, a beautiful, sprite young woman was smiling broadly, her mother's lovely smile as she bounced around the bedroom.
Chris, Linda’s older son was there, too. Steven, our brother who was in from California, had told Linda that Chris had four beers at lunch.
The drama was a nice diversion at Chris' expense. Linda came back to our world for a moment and forgot her pain within her loving reprimand.
Larry, Linda’s husband arrived after work and fell asleep at the foot of their bed, exhausted. Larry’s battle has been rough, it must have been tough to persevere but he did.
Thankfully, Larry has been with Linda, holding her and loving her through every battle of the war she ultimately lost. Larry Green you are a good man and we love you very much.
Linda was the oldest of four children born to my father Abraham and my mother Florence. Our six lives are entwined deeply beneath the surface of who we think we are.
The connection, mother to father to sister to brother is the primal connection of our spiritual selves, nothing can shake it, and nothing can ever break it, not even death.
Today, sadly, Steven, Paul and I with our mother and father are together to honor Linda’s life and to mourn her death.
And together we will pass through the pain, the indescribable heart break of our loss and we will focus our love, strengthened by the immovable connection between us, on our memories of Linda with both tears and with laughter.
Later today my brothers and I will plant a beautiful, crimson tree in Linda and Larry’s garden. I will let this tree and all of the joy I have during the rest of my life and my children’s lives remind me of the love I hold in my heart for our sister Linda.
I hope you all do the same. Thank you for sharing in our sorrow today.
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