In 2011 a beautiful friend of mine suffered a loss that I never want to experience - a loss that most people will (hopefully) never understand.
She lost her teenage daughter.
Does it matter if I told you it was to cancer, an automobile accident, drugs, a doctor's mistake, or to juvenile diabetes? (Truth be told - Sarah died of the latter of this list. She was too young, too amazing, with too much potential...)
I do not often attend funerals. I celebrate the life of the one you lost and I also weep for your heavy heart - but in my few years I have experienced many funerals and areas of mourning. Frankly, I have learned that it's best for me to just seldom visit the mass of mourning often found in funerals. Mourning is very personal for me...
And yet - yet - I found myself standing in the auditorium of a local high-school. I was the first one there... (this happens a lot) and there was Sarah - ensconced in her final resting bed. Her coffin was a macabre of signatures, small sketches and Sharpe notes.
I met Sarah through her mother. The background is a long twist of strange and online wonder - but Sarah continued to be this amazing light of "wow" for me. Her mom invited me to birthday parties, and I found these beautiful children on my steps at Halloween. (Bella before she was famous? HELLO! I remember when she happened upon my porch as Bella - apple in hand. Man, she was cool.)
Frankly - and I still believe this - Sarah was cooler than the rest of us. Tuned into the culture of her generation, she knew music, and topics far beyond our understanding.
That day in September, I found myself sitting with a very still Sarah for almost half an hour. Just she and I in an auditorium.
Make this not real. Sarah get up. Hey, kid, stop it.
I thought it all - Please God. Please.
Finally, I got the courage to walk to her coffin and wrote on the top. Nothing amazing. Nothing important - but I wished once again that I could breathe into her the life she lived so amazingly.
Soon others filed in - soon I saw her mother, her father, family - her uncle (who I adored) file in and the songs, stories, began... we said goodbye. We enjoyed Sarah's joy - we praised the life lived... we cherished her.
I had not planned to walk past he open coffin. Frankly, I've spent years (and years) avoiding any more open coffins - but I was there, in the first row asked to stand and start the walk past the open bed showing the Sarah that was not Sarah and I couldn't escape - so I walked. Round back, around the side, near her family I stole a glance at her mom and dad - at her uncle and I ached for them.
Three years later - I ache for all of them.
Sarah was/is amazing. Hey - I attribute her awesomeness to the people that paved her path - there are a lot of you.
Reminders from Sarah:
Don't mistake another day for another chore.
People love you. Lots. Open your arms to the possibility of this love.
Care for you. You have one chance to do this.
Listen to music loudly. There's a reason for this.
Sing.
Sing often.
And hey - if you have the opportunity to cross the path of Sarah's family - you'd better take notice. Her soul is hers because of the divine people in her path. Take note: learn something.
Remember Sarah.
Love you all. Really, really, really.
- Simone
3 comments:
<3 So much love!! Thank you.
Beautiful and well written. You've captured the essence of Sarah with words. :)
I wish you could have seen the casket, just before it closed. Her classmates went by just before we did. They each had a red rose for her. Her face was surrounded by deep red rose buds. It reminded me of the train scene in V for Vendetta.
Post a Comment