Saturday night around midnight I received a phone call informing me that my dear friend, Sydney has been diagnosed with a brain tumor. A surge of nausea welled up in the pit of my stomach and my body went limp.
Crying is my way of showing intense feeling. I cry when I'm happy, joyful, sorrowful, angry, sick, exhausted, passionate, sensing the Holy Spirit or empathizing with others. I can't stop it and I don't always know when it's going to happen.
A lot has happened this year. It has been a hard few months. Many changes and too much transition... personally and professionally. And recently being adult has just, quite frankly, sucked.
I've had the desire to revert to a stage in life where I had no worries, could let my parents figure everything out and didn't have to be "grown up."
The wave of panic that washed over me on my drive was a mixture of helplessness and anger that felt unexplainable. But the worst feeling was knowing I couldn't continue alone, even with my iPod exuding rhythms composed by Copeland. I needed a friend. A human being. Cursing and pleading with God only dredged up more emotional gunk. My thoughts were consuming me as rain and tears obstructed my view through the windshield...
My nonexistent devotional life cannot be held against God as some "threat" as if saying, See, I don't need to talk to you or come to you with my needs and hurt, because you only ignore me. I know it's not true. The panic comes in realizing I must face my thoughts, but not alone. I have to take them to Christ and that is much more difficult than phoning a friend.
Intellectually I might be able to tell you all the right answers about this weird Christian life. Emotionally, I can even relate with you in your hurt, fear and confusion. But when it comes right down to it, I know my negligence is a matter of disobedience and pride. But also a deep longing. A longing to be loved and appreciated. To be noticed and missed. To be held and comforted. What I long for cannot be found on earth. I long to be in heaven with my glorious Lord. My Redeemer.
But for now, I am to persevere amidst the trials of this life. Enduring the pain and brokenness of a fallen world. To cry, love, laugh and live a life that glorifies Him. I won't give up.
In my weakness, He is strong.
-----Sydney passed away August 29, 2011.
If I thought I cried a lot the day she was diagnosed, it's nothing compared to the despair and sorrow I felt the Monday evening I read Todd's email, "After a difficult weekend of fighting, massive brain swelling and several seizures, Sydney's brain stopped functioning, and eventually her lungs and her heart failed. Although we are grieving deeply, Sydney is in heaven now, more radiant than ever."
Nothing prepared me for that news.
Nothing.
My heart felt like it had fallen out of my body as I crumpled onto the bed in front of me.
I wept for hours.
Yesterday, I bought an iPhone 4. It's been a long time coming. I finally caved. However, I was not prepared for what happened when the sales lady, Lisa, took my old phone to transfer numbers. She failed to mention that I would be losing all of my voicemails (29 after periodic deleting) I had saved for the past seven years.
I save the funny ones. The ones that make me laugh so hard I almost cry. And sometimes at night when I can't fall asleep, I listen to them... sweet memories.
Immediately I thought of the many messages from Syd that I've listened to over and over again these past few months. My favorites because she calls me nick-names like "Ambie-lambie," and sings funny songs, makes jokes about the women's retreat at our church in Charlotte ("Ugh, I don't wanna go. But, I asked the Lord about it and He told me I had to go... women's retreat virgin, Ambie, first time, first time..." in her thick southern accent) and another of how she explains she is running late as usual or is obsessed with something or someone and "...ok, I'm driving to bum frickin' west Charlotte now... was supposed to be there 20 minutes ago. Luuuuuv ya!"
At first I took a deep breath and explained to Lisa, "Every other time I've updated a phone, the voicemails stay." Apparently it doesn't work that way with the iPhone. I would have had to extract them before Lisa made the transfer.
Standing in the middle of the Verizon store at 1:30pm on a Sunday afternoon, with absolutely no warning, I began sobbing. I'm not talking a few tears... I lost it. I had to catch my breath and walk away for a few moments.
Poor Lisa touched my arm and apologized while I tried to explain to her why I was so upset.
It didn't matter. My last traces of Syd were wiped away.
Sadness washed over me.
Grief is funny like that, I guess. Sneaks up on you when you think you've "properly grieved" or "gotten over it."
And yet, in the sorrow, there have been many moments of joy and smiles as I'm reminded of Sydney these past few weeks. Just this weekend, my sweet friend Jess gave me a beautiful sassy green clutch with square, silver handles. Looked like something right out of Syd's closet. And, at church yesterday my friend, Christy was wearing a beautiful gold and teal necklace like Syd used to wear.
I know she isn't here anymore, but she remains in my thoughts and part of my brief life here. I learned so much from her.
The day will be sweet when we see each other again. We'll slip on our gold ballet flats and sashay our way down heavenly paths, colors blazing all around in shades we ne'er knew existed.
Sydney Boone Gaylord -- the blue rose, radiant and beautiful
13.April.1976 - 29.August.2011
1 comment:
Love you Amber. Love how you write about life. Your words are beautiful. I would have cried too.
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