As we sat there
quietly in the pews of the church, all I could hear was the occasional sniffle.
Looking around me there were many faces with red rimmed eyes and tears silently
trickling down their cheeks. In the front rows I could see those who were her
family, their shoulders weighed down by the sadness of the occasion. The white
coffin and flowers surrounding it made it clear that this was a sad sad day. A
day to lay to rest a young woman who couldn’t bear to live anymore. Another
reminder of the frailty of life, and that for some the pain and chaos of living
is just too much.
The tables were
carefully placed to enable 30 people to sit down for the Christmas dinner. They
were decorated with white tablecloths and small vases with red flowers in them.
The whole house was filled with the smell of dinner having been lovingly
prepared, and the guests were arriving. It was a beautiful evening of constant
conversation, laughs, eating and games. A time of community and family, and of
creating a good memory related to Christmas, where so many have none.
At the end of an
emotional day and evening I got home, and received the news that a new little
nephew had entered into this world (a wee bit earlier than planned). It was
good to end the day with life. Rejoicing and being full of joy over another
little person I get to know and follow in life.
Not every day is like
this one was, and it’s taken me some time to process the emotions of the
different parts of it. And yet, what I remain with is the fact that life is
precious and fragile and unpredictable and violent and vulnerable and
beautiful. That life is made up of grief and joy and all the emotions in
between. And that while we can never make choices for anyone about how they
live their lives, we can always choose to make the most of each encounter we
have with them, and we can always choose to love each person well.