Life and Death Collide

Photo via Chattanooga Times Free Press

 My weekend took me to two very different events in the course of one day.  On Saturday afternoon I went to the funeral of Rachel Held Evans, and later on Saturday evening I attended the wedding of Autumn Cofield.

There’s no denying the fact that life and death walk alongside each other on the paths of our lives, but this weekend they collided and overlapped…

--In a father carrying his one-year-old daughter and holding the hand of his three-year-old son as they walked behind the casket of his wife and their mother; and in a father walking the bride down the aisle strewn with petals by the young flower girls.

--In a mother-of-the-bride who buried her mother on Monday and walked down her daughters’ wedding aisle on the arm of her widowed father on Saturday.

--In hearing a young woman give the eulogy at the funeral of her older sister; then hours later, hearing another young woman, who was the maid of honor, toast her just-wed sister at the reception.

Photo via Chattanooga Times Free Press

--In listening to my daughter sob for all the reasons she was sad at losing her friend; and later listening to the laughter of friends recounting good times with the bride and groom.

            --In grieving all that was lost in the death of Rachel, all that could have been, all that should have been; and in celebrating all the joy at the wedding of Autumn and Richard, and dreaming with them of all that has begun and is to come.

When we see this collision of life and death in the same space it is jarring.  Beautiful and terrible all at the same time.  I know that for Dan Evans, the reality jars him daily. Only days after Rachel’s passing, he hosted a birthday party for his sweet little girl, and that is but a single example of how death slaps you in the face, kicks you in the gut, over and over…and life goes on.  The words of poet Judah Halevi ring true in this space:

Tis a fearful thing

To love what death can touch.

A fearful thing

To love, to hope, to dream, 

To be, and O, to lose.

A thing for fools, this,

And a holy thing.

A holy thing… to love.

For your life has lived in me.

Your laugh once lifted me.

To remember this brings painful joy.

Tis a human thing, love,

A holy thing…

To love what death has touched.

Birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, and graduations will mark the time and witness to the truth that life indeed does go on.  Autumn’s wedding attested to that fact.  My gift to her was a poem I wrote.  It is a snapshot in words of a time held dear, and a wish for a bright future with Richard.

A beautiful sunset,

Yellow, orange, red,

Still waters on the lake,

A loon calling mournfully to its mate,

Good friends gathered in a cozy cabin,

Fresh blueberry pie on my plate.

These were the elements

Of a perfect evening.

“It doesn’t get any better than this,”

I remember saying.

And then you entered the scene,

Sitting behind us

In the darkness that was slowly enfolding the cabin.

You played your cello.

For the next half hour

You transported us from the beautiful

To the sublime,

The transcendent.

It is one of my favorite memories.

I wish for you and Richard

Moments like this,

Memories like this,

Love like this.

Days like this remind me of a verse in Psalm 90 that says, “Teach us to number our days,” and a better translation might be “Teach us that our days are numbered.”  Rachel’s sister Amanda brought this home to us at the funeral by playing a beautiful song she wrote for her sister and never played it for her. She had no reason why except that she thought she had time. 

Yes, there is no doubt that life and death walk side by side in our lives, one taking the lead at times while the other lags behind, later to change positions.  This is the ebb and flow of life.