epiphany

Not Exactly Whispering

Online advertisements are getting annoying. I'm particularly starting to wish that Victoria would learn how to keep her secrets. As it is, she has very little left to hide.

I like Apple's Safari browser, but I may have to switch to Firefox just so good old Vickie stops bugging me.

Memory

We had Gary's memorial service Thursday. I would have been at work for only an hour, so I took the whole day off. After a lazy morning, I went to pick up my accompanist and headed to the funeral.

Traffic was slow. What should have taken five or ten minutes took twenty. My friend just moved into a new townhouse. I spent about 10 minutes knocking on somebody else's door and ringing their doorbell before I realized I was at the wrong building. I had tried calling, but Jeremy's been having problems with phone service in his place. Eventually, I popped one unit over, and he answered immediately, wondering what had taken me so long.

We made it to the church shortly after 12:30 and ran through our songs in the choir room a couple times while Gary's parents listened. I had understood that Gary was being cremated and was very surprised to hear that his viewing was in the side chapel. I went in five minutes before the service started, which I immediately realized was a mistake. That brought up WAY too many emotions.

I spent a good bit of the service just praying that I would be able to sing my two songs, "It Is Well with My Soul" and my arrangement of "Be Still, My Soul," without breaking down. Immediately after sitting down from the second one, I started crying. Fortunately I had stolen some kleenex from the bathroom just before the service.

Still, it was a good service. I suppose all funerals have their awkward moments, something that doesn't quite seem to fit the person you knew. But then again, I really haven't known Gary all that long--less than a year. I knew him mostly in his illness. It would have been like someone getting to know Dad at the end of his life. The last time I saw Dad, he was a skeleton with paper skin and eyes as blue and deep as the sky. Gary didn't walk quite as far into the Holocaust as Dad did. He was thin, but he still had some meat on him. Still, the shadows of the valley creep over even the strongest. In the casket, we all look alike.

I went back into the viewing room after the service and had another brief chat and cry. I held Gary's hand, told him to hang on until I got there, and to say hi to Dad for me.

The world keeps moving. Cars keep running past. Work and hunger and sleep rise for their varied times. Life continues. Some know the loss of a life. Others feel different loss. Some few have not yet met the shadows. I do not call them lucky, for their luck cannot last forever. But I do wish them well, happiness, and strength to see light once the darkness begins its slow trek across their eyes.

I wrote an e-mail to my mom two days after Gary died, trying to summarize my thoughts and sort out what had happened to me. It normally takes me months or years to see patterns in my life, to see the lessons written in my own tale. This time seems different, almost like the line that makes the drawing sensible or that final note that allows you to start writing a different song.

Here's most, if not all, of that note:

***
We had a really good impromptu memorial service at Gary's on Tuesday night [July 18, 2006]. Nearly 40 guys showed up. I had a good day during the day [Wednesday]. I woke up utterly thankful for having known him. But [Wednesday] evening was rough. I cried a few times. Didn't quite cry myself to sleep but kept telling Jesus how much it hurts to love and how very, very sad I was. But I don't want to just shut down the hurting. I want to feel this whole thing thoroughly--the good and the bad.

I don't know if I ever mentioned it to you, but before Great Uncle Earnest died, I wanted to move to New Brunswick and help care for him and Grandpie. That
never happened, but now I've had a chance to help out a different older man. I think that's cool. Kind of like how I thought I should be a missionary, realized
it wasn't right for me, and later ended up in China for a year.

The big thing I wonder is whether or not Gary and Dad have met yet and if they're talking about me. That brings the hugest mix of emotions: excitement and aching emptiness all at the same time. I think they would be good friends.

"Lay up treasures in Heaven." I've spend so much time helping and thinking about Gary these last few months that I feel a bit lost. It's like I've had a really
good investment, and the deal just completed. Now I need to find a different place (person) to invest.

Yesterday morning during thankful mode, I realized how much strength Dad and Gary have left me through their passing. When Dad died, there were responsibilities I didn't want to take but knew I had to, things I didn't think I was strong enough to do, though I now needed to do them. With Gary, I began to assume that adult role I feared: helping with meds, taking care of little things around the house, comforting him in his bad hours. I used to feel like a lost 5 year old boy. I just wanted to find my mom and dad and curl up on their laps when I was sad or scared. When I was worn out and depressed, I would tell people I'm already 50 or 60 years old inside. I don't feel much of either of that now. While I don't quite feel like I'm 30, I do feel much more of a young man than a little boy. In my sadness, I feel no older than I actually am.

Feeble Eulogy

My good friend Gary Birkeland died at 1:00am today. I was walking to work when I found out. He was 61 years old and for several months had been battling infections following chemotherapy. I've known him for less than a year, but he had a big affect on my life in that time.

I've been praying for him for a long time and really did believe that God would heal him.

Last night I didn't sleep very well. I had heard that the family might have to decide today whether or not to pull the plug on the breathing machine. I requested to sit with him if they did. As I lay on my bed, I told God that if Gary wasn't going to come back to us, if he was too broken and needed to go, to please let him pass during the night so his family wouldn't have to face that terrible decision.

Now he's gone, and I feel lost. I took care of necessary early business at work and then headed home. I would often sing for Gary when I visited him in the hospital. The family asked me to sing for his funeral.

This brings up lots of sadness and scratches old scars from my dad's death. Gary had become a kind of surrogate dad in the time I knew him. I even told him he could sit in the family section at my wedding (whenever that would be).

I miss him, and my head is cloudy. The last I spoke to him was a week ago Wednesday. I asked about coming to visit, but he said he'd had a rough day and didn't think I should stop by. The last thing he said to me was, "You're a good friend, Jon." The next morning he was in the hospital sedated and on the breathing machine.

A Prayer Against Fear

I place my trust in the Lord of Hosts
Whose arm is strong to keep me.
Though a thousand skilled warriors,
Even thousands of thousands
Armed and clad in adamant and diamond,
Rise against me,
I will not fear.
Though the Prince of Shadows himself
Should come in fury of hot blood and fire
To claim my soul,
I need not be afraid.
For all who hate me
Are but mice before a lion;
Even like dry grass before the hooves
Of a stallion shod for battle
Be my foes.
Therefore, I place my trust
In the Lord of Hosts.

I place my way with the Father of Lights,
Who guides my step and keeps my feet.
Like the light of a thousand suns,
Even thousands of thousands,
White hot and burning with the glory of youth,
The dawning of life,
Be but his shadow.
Though darkness swarm around me,
Though depth of clouded night, an active
Blackness, devour my road,
I need not be afraid.
For light shines in the darkness,
And the darkness cannot consume it.
Even should the pitch of hell surround
And the day be black about me,
Your truth will light my eyes.
Therefore, I place my way
With the Father of Lights.

Before the Son of Truth I place my cause,
Who stands to judge my soul’s complaint.
Though a thousand accusers,
Even thousands of thousands
Armed with greedy lies or proof of false will,
Cry against me,
I will not fear.
Though the law of God itself
Should rise, demanding hot blood or fire
In honest claim,
I need not be afraid.
I have an Advocate
Whose word can stay the law,
Who stands my Judge, who stands my Substitute,
Who frees me from every fine
And measures me with mercy.
Therefore, before the Son of Truth
I place my cause.

I place my hope in the Spirit of Peace,
The Ghost who comes to comfort.
Though a thousand devils,
Even thousands of thousands,
Quick and clever, with whispers of chaos
Assault my mind,
I will not fear.
Though madness come to consume me,
Though life itself become discord and pain,
I need not be afraid.
For clouds of confusion
Must scatter before the Breath.
The gentle Wind will come to kindle
My heart’s moist and molding wood, its
Smoldering spark.
Therefore I place my hope
In the Spirit of Peace.

Into the hands of the God of all Love,
The One who created, who made
Himself man and was crushed for our punishment,
Who rose, defeating death’s strength,
I place my life.
The Lord of Hosts,
The Father of Lights,
The Son of Truth,
The Spirit of Peace,
Great God of all Love,
Keep my trust,
My way,
My cause,
My hope,
My life.
Into your hands I commend my spirit,
Into the hands of the God of all Love.

Peace be with all who walk in his love,
Who keep his commandments.
Amen.

July 12, 2006

(to be read aloud)

There's part of me that loves a rainy day,
The gently echoed light of clouds,
The sky a pearly gray.

When evening comes, I see the reason
Why the long red dragon fiercely
Seeks the silver sun.

Its fiery light, casting gold and white
Across the water, paints the land
And many-layered heights.

Salmon pink and glacier blue, the sky
And sea retain the fragrance of
The sunset's misty sigh.

There's part of me that loves a rainy day,
The gently echoed light of clouds,
The silver sun's Olympic shroud,
The blue and pink on Sound and bay,
The sky a pearly gray.