Sandy

Last weekend, a very sweet woman with whom I was barely acquainted passed away–just days before her 60th birthday.

I met her in the driveway of my best friend’s house during the height of covid. She offered help as I carried bags to the front door. I politely declined. I thought it was strange she was offering help to a perfect stranger. Apparently, that’s who she was: a kind-hearted, gentle-spirited woman who’d help at the drop of a hat. It makes the world that much sadder and darker that one more good person has left the earth.

She was a Nurse Practitioner by profession, a daughter, wife, mother, stepmother, grandmother, and friend. She raised her son by herself, took care of her parents in their later years, helped raise her second husband’s daughters, then took care of her father and husband until cancer quickly had its way. She also had a two-year-old granddaughter she would meet a couple hours from home to have for the weekend. And this is how my best friend would get to see her great niece sometimes. She would take her granddaughter to visit them.

No. I did not know her, but I could tell she was truly loved. Despite her busy life, she made time to help others. My best friend would reach out to her for advice on how to care for her parents who are well advanced in age and suffer from Dementia and Alzheimer’s. And she would help any way she could.

This woman was the glue of her entire family and extended family. I cannot imagine the loss they feel at this time. I know how my best friend feels, and that is enough pain. And when she’s hurting, I am hurting.

It is a very sad situation; one I will never understand. What a humble existence. She was sort of a nun in her own right–only she didn’t choose it. She didn’t purposely devote herself to God and caring for others while taking the vows of the sisters. She was just a good human, a servant of God in a different way. She didn’t care for others until their last breaths. She cared for them until hers. Humble but sad. It’s different if you choose it. It’s different if you feel called rather than feel obligated or do it out of love. It almost seems even less selfish this way–because she was thrown into it and chose it. She didn’t have to. She made no promises before God that caring for others would be her entire life. It just was. And for this, I mourn her.

My admiration for and adoration of the nuns has been obvious. They do the hardest work–the work most of us don’t want to do–the work they wouldn’t need to do if we all just took care of our neighbors and loved them as ourselves. But here we are.

I hurt for the woman’s family, friends, and coworkers. I hurt for my best friend who’s taken this hard. I hurt for that little girl who only had her grandma for two years. Mostly, I hurt for her. She was young, younger than my parents. She should’ve had more time. She deserved so much more. She deserved to retire. She deserved to rest. She deserved to have someone else care for her the way she cared for everyone else. But cancer took that.

No. I didn’t know her, but I mourn her life. What did she get to do? When did she get a break? When she finally passed away? She should still be here, hanging out with her granddaughter and her son. Her entire life was spent taking care of others. Why didn’t she get her turn here?

I know she is not the only person in life like this. I know other people who’ve spent their entire lives caring for family, and it’s sad to me. Are they fulfilled? Are they at peace? Do they sleep well? Do they ever have moments that aren’t difficult? Is life ever easy for them? Is it ever good? Do they all believe in God? Do they believe in Heaven? Are they all going there? Why are they doing this? How do they keep going day in and out despite all the trials and tribulations? Do they ever get any rest? Or is this why they die young? Is that God’s way of taking them out of these situations–to get eternal rest once and for all–and to see those they’ve cared for and lost?

These are the people Jesus speaks of in the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-10)

Blessed are the poor in spirit,
    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
    for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
    for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
    for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
    for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
    for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
    for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Every good person I know is one of the above.

I imagine those streets of gold are beautiful. And those reunions are happy. And time is but a moment. It creeps on earth but flies like the angels there. There is no sickness or sadness or loss. Everyone is happy and healthy.

Just like Billy said, “only the good die young.” And maybe this is God’s way of rewarding them, though it leaves the rest of us sad and sick with grief. I think another reason the good die young is because it takes them less time for their souls to be right with God whereas the rest of us need much more time. (I know I do.) God has special missions for them, and when they were complete, He takes them home.

I pray for the rest of the good people I know. May they see a little rest, a little peace, and a little of what they deserve before they part the earth. May their hearts be filled with all the love they’ve given in their lives. May their transitions be smooth despite whatever circumstances they are facing.

May the good in others speak to us, motivate us, and teach us how to love ourselves, love others, and be mindful, thankful, and helpful. May the good Lord humble us with the abilities to bless others in the ways we’ve seen and been shown.

May God have mercy on us all as we watch Him take back who he’s given us. May He give us peace that passes all understanding. Amen.