In my last blogging session I wrote of the loss of my chemo buddy, Sarah. The events that have unfolded since are nothing short of a miracle. Sarah helped create a gift of comfort for children with cancer. It was our goal to present these gifts together to the children on her unit at Seattle Children's Hospital. At the time of her passing, I was in need of $1600 and had run out of ideas to generate the funds. I felt I had disappointed Sarah by not getting finished in time. I felt a little miffed that I didn't get to meet her. That I would never be able to hug her or look her in the eyes and tell her how much she had inspiried me.
On March 15th, I received a call from Sarah's uncle. He wanted to thank me for my efforts on "Sarah's Gift" and made a generous donation to the project. The next day, Sarah's mom contacted me and told me they would be having a Celebration of Life service on March 26th. She stated that if I could arrange it, I was more than welcome to attend. And it was at that very moment that I made the decision to find a way to wrap this project up and present the gifts to the children on Sarah's behalf and attend her service.
I'm not quite sure how I pulled it off, but I did. I know there was a considerable amount of Divine Intervention. Last Friday I flew out to Seattle and presented thirty "Sarah's Gift" backpacks to Seattle Children's Hospital. To see the children's faces light up was awesome! For just a moment they were able to forget where they were and why, and THAT was the whole purpose. Thank you Sarah for all your great ideas!
I attended her service on Saturday and met her family. What an incredible group of people they are. Over 250 people attended and there wasn't a dry eye in the house, but it truly was a Celebration of Life. Sarah touched more people in her 12 short years on earth, than most people do in a lifetime.
Once I returned home, it hit me. Sarah was really gone. I would not be sending her cards anymore. There was no need to visit the gift shops and boutiques for nicknacks, dreamcatchers, wolf items or angels. No more letters telling her about the antics of my dogs and cat. No more talk about yummy foods or Nancy Drew mysteries. There was only emptiness and sorrow. Sorrow for my own loss; sorrow for her family and friends.
Sarah taught me that I am capable of unconditional love. I never met her in person. I only spoke with her on the phone once. But during the nine months I was her angel, I grew to love her very much and I miss her deeply.
We all experience the loss of a loved one at some point in our lives. When I lost my grandmother, I was a drug addict. She was the most influential person in my life and we had the most wonderful times together. But, because I was so wrapped up in drugs, I didn't allow myself to grieve for her until many years later. I carried the grief around and couldn't even identify what it was.
This time I'm allowing myself to grieve. I realize it's okay to be sad and sob like a baby. I realize it's okay to reach out to others and tell them that I miss my Sarah. I realize that it's okay to move forward in my life, knowing that Sarah will always be with me and watching over me from above.
If you are grieving, I encourage you to embrace it, acknowlege it, respect it and be gentle with yourself. Take the time you need and honor the one you are grieving. However, I believe that those who have passed would not want us to fall into a hole of dark depression or indulge in substances that cause us harm. They do not want us to stop living or wallow in self-pity. These are unhealthy ways to cope with grief and will never bring that person back. Don't disrespect that person's memory by trashing your life or shutting yourself off from the world. Go out there and share your love. Share it like it's your last day on earth. You never know, it very well could be.
Many Blessings,
The Spiritual Peacemaker
SCH Child Life Specialist, Joanne Patten (R) and Me (L) with "Sarah's Gift"
WE DID IT SARAH!
Thank you for pulling strings
with The Powers That Be!
A butterfly lights beside us like a sunbeam,
and for a brief moment,
its glory and beauty belong to our world.
But, then it flies on again.
And although we wish it could have stayed,
we feel blessed to have seen it.
Sarah Louise Engelmann
08/24/91 - 03/08/04
Heartbreaking moments give us our most valued gifts.
A friend is near her end (pancreatic cancer) and I too will soon be visiting this spot.
I wish you well.
Posted by: mark | April 03, 2004 at 05:05 PM