Let it go

Many of you have had me and the families of the recently and too soon departed Gus Deeds and Sarah Johnston Defren in your prayers.  Thank you and keep praying for healing and coping for all of us, but for the most part we are surviving and doing ok.  It just sucks.  I want to just tell how wild the week has been.

On May 3, friends and family from Bath County gathered at the Millboro Elementary School for a memorial service for the dearly beloved Gus Deeds.  More friends of his gathered at Nature Camp that afternoon.  The newspaper has ALL the details here.

It was good.  I cried when they played James Taylor.  One time Gus got so mad I was playing Kansas in the car.  He just couldn't handle it, too depressing.  So he put in James Taylor (which somehow was less depressing).  Fire and Rain, "I always thought that I'd see you again"  Thanks a lot for keeping depression to a minimum Gus.

Anyway it was a day to celebrate his life, and we did.  We all told Gus stories which either involved shenanigans, music, dancing, his baked beans, or all of the above.  I got to chat late into the night (pretty deeply) with some of his past roomates friends, and a girlfriend who shared something special with Gus.  The parts of his life I didn't know about weren't as bad as I'd constructed them in my head.  We are all better people after knowing Gus.

After a delicious breakfast at camp, a bird walk, and a too-long goodbye that made me late for church in my watershoes, I met up with my family.  We were on our way to see my brother, Isaac in a play.  My Aunt Susan and Uncle Keith were going to come down to see us there too. 

On the way to the play they called to say they weren't coming.  Their niece, my cousin Sarah had collapsed from a heart attack at the finish line of her half marathon in Frederick, MA and they were babysitting her kids as her parents and husband went to see her in the hospital.

....[insert bad words]

She never really woke up.  Stayed in a coma-like state until she died on Tuesday the 6th.  Gus' birthday.  (makes for a good country song).  This article tells the story pretty well.  Some friends are raising money for her kids online here.

It hit all of us in the family differently.  For me it was wake up call that, as much as I want it to be, life isn't just about Gus.  Another reminder life is short.  Too short. God's timing isn't ours.  I was very thankful to be at home with my family hearing it.  Thankful she didn't suffer long.  Thankful she crossed the finish line with a smile on her face, she finished the race, even though she left us with tears on our face, to go live in Grace.

Weird how that stuff works out.  She didn't die on a back road in Shenandoah County, my sister saw the bright side.  She collapsed after finishing the race where the medics were with the machine to revive her.  Enough time that she may have heard her husbands voice, her parent's voices, her siblings, nieces and nephew's voices, and her kid's voices in the hospital before she was gone forever, and they saw her "alive."  Enough time for her daughter Brooke to sing her a song "Let it Go" from Disney's Frozen.  But not as much time as we'd like.  I am sad thinking of Mark and the kids, and the Johnstons going on without her.  But they still have each other and her love.

 

On my way back to Boston, my bus drove past John Hopkins hospital where she died.  I wasn't ready to see that.

I learned from all the Sarah stories that in her early days of running, her friend and running partner Matthew had a mountain climbing accident that left him paraplegic and unable to run.  Sarah said she'd run for Matthew because he can't any more and she'd always run if it killed her.  She finished the race.

2 Timothy 4:6-8:  the time of my departure has come.  I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.  Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, with the lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that Day and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing.

One of the oldest of my 12 cousins, Sarah was 14 years older than me, and she always scared me a little.  She was mean in the sense that she told you how she felt, and growing up I never much cared for that.  She never fussed to make a fuss, just to let you know you were wrong when she was right. She was usually right.  I specifically remember one Christmas when she handed my two brothers and I each a present wrapped in the same size box. I guessed it was a shirt because I recognized the shirt size gift box.  I didn't want any shirts at the time, so I sat it aside ungratefully.  I didn't even say thank you, and promptly got back to my more important pokemon game boy game.  An argument with Sarah ensued about how ungrateful and spoiled we were that left me in tears--but she was right, I was being an annoying little brat.  She made me open it in front of everyone, and boy was I wrong about the shirt, it was a snickers bar!  She wrapped the snickers bar in  a t-shirt box!  Taught me a lesson.

Sarah wouldn't take nothin' off any one of us cousins, or anyone really.  She'd respectfully, (sometimes grumbly) listen to her parents (sometimes) and my mother (sometimes).  She was always strong willed and independent, and intimidating to me.  But she was never hateful in that intimidating, just the voice of truth (and the truth is what was scary I think).

Once I started running cross country I noticed her words to me were less abrasive.  But that was about the time I shaped up and quit being such a baby.  Her last words to me in January were about all the pictures of me in Boston with my long hair and all the lady YAVs.  She never messed around in what she wanted to say.  But she was full of love.  This is the last thing I heard from her in January:

" Hey Alex. If your facebook pictures are any indication of your future, I would think you were in training to become a fundamentalist Mormon, preparing for polygamy :) Hope you're having fun and staying warm! A house full of girls is a big change from a house full of Haneys. Good luck!"

My cousins, Elizabeth and Sarah at the family reunion June 2013

I heard her sassy undertones in all of her stories this week and I see it lives on in my cousin Kristi who is about her age.

Sarah, you inspired me to me start running again.  I never got to have a good conversation with you and Mark about how silly they talk up here in his hometown of Boston.  I know we all wanted to.  You left many others even closer to you missing things they wanted.  But I know that you know after your argument with God about how soon you left your family that He's got it covered and it's going to be ok. Give Gus a big hug for me up there will you, he was high school valedictorian just like you.

And St. Peter, when Sarah tells you not to let her Uncle John and the Haney's in, she's just kidding.

"Let not your hearts be troubled" from John 14 we heard at the funeral.  How true it is.  All the pain and loss does not compare to the glory about to be revealed to us.  God is working, he's building up his team of angels up there and doing far more than we can ask or think.  In hope we await the revealing of what is to come. And because of that hope we don't need to fear.  But it still hurts.

We don't know how short our time with our loved ones will be, so take care of that stuff that's bothering you with them.  Likewise, friends, sisters-in-law, colleagues all disappear as soon as they come, don't hold things against them.  Let it Go like the song.  Start with forgiveness and put up with their annoying political opinions for the sake of having known them as much as you want when it's all over.

Life is short, start running.

Sarah (front left in pink) finished her race on Sunday