bloggedy blog: the personal weblog of a music lover and aging punk wannabe

:: Saturday, April 24, 2004 ::

A death, and a visitation
I went to a visitation this morning. A 41-year-old woman died, leaving behind a loving husband and a 13- or 14-year-old daughter. The husband is a faculty member, and his wife once worked as a graphic designer in our publications office. She was a talented artist, a faithful Christian, and a wonderful person. In the brief time we worked together, we talked often about the faith, life in her native Taiwan, and the differences between the American version of Christianity and that practiced in her homeland. Her husband would sometimes stop by at lunchtime with a Tupperware bowl full of soybeans to share with us as he talked about the bean's health benefits and warned me about drinking too much coffee.

This morning I met their daughter for the first time, although I have thought about her off and on during her mother's illness -- and more often, especially, over the past couple of days. Their daughter is a beautiful girl, with long straight raven-black hair and dark, intelligent eyes behind round glasses. I spoke to her as we stood together, with other mourners, before a display of her mother's design work and many photographs of the family. I told her what a wonderfully talented designer and artist her mother was. I asked her if she was an artist, too. She smiled demurely and shook her head no. "That's okay," I said, then inwardly cursed myself for saying such a dumb thing.

What I wanted to tell her -- and what I told her father instead -- was that I know something about losing a mother at a young age. I wanted to tell her that I was 10 when my mother died, and that everything would turn out alright. But that is not something you should say to a 13- or 14-year-old girl you've just met, whose mother has just died. Especially when you know from experience that everything will not be alright. Not for a long time, anyway.

Sometimes we say too much. Sometimes we don't say enough. Oh, for the wisdom to say the right things at the right times. We're better off, probably, to be like Job's three friends, and simply show up, mourn, and say nothing. Showing up, showing you care, is the more important thing, I guess.

As I write this, the girl's mother's funeral will begin in about 30 minutes.

:: Andrew 10:43 + ::
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