Findable, and Being Found
I spoke at Brian's funeral.
Janet Marie sat on the floor by his coffin with a stuffed animal (I think), because he was that kind of guy.
SO many beautiful flower arrangements crowded the front of the funeral home and stood around his coffin.
I got him tulips one year for Valentine's Day, together with Elizabeth and Mary. He LOVED them, and when the receptionist at work called him when they arrived, he was like, "I don't know, do you think it's a bomb?" just to gently rattle her.
The funeral was sort of in the format of a 12-step meeting. Tim opened the meeting with raw raw unadulterated pain in his trembling voice like i've never heard from anyone. it drove daggers of ice into my heart and mind and rained down on me like a cold, brutal, biting day in belgium. he has so much public speaking experience and training. i cannot believe his strength as he got through those early days, and as the loss of Brian spreads out from us to the ends of the earth.
I said good bye to Brian. I cried so hard. I did not understand why he was so still. I wanted him to move and stand up and get out of his coffin. I talked to him but he could not hear me. He was wearing a suit that Tim had picked out, I think. Mary said he must have been wearing tons of skin-toned makeup because he was bright yellow when he died, because of the jaundice and organ failure.
I saw a picture of him when he was near the end, in his hospital bed. He looked so small. But as he was getting smaller, something else was getting a lot bigger. And I think he knew it. His hospital room was adorned with flowers and garlands, stuffed animals and pictures. So much love. They had to turn visitors away because it was too stressful for him. Mary and Elizabeth and Tim were with him the entire time, and possibly his family. Janet Marie and I had each other. We would visit his grave together, sometimes. He was so there. I was so wrapped in his presence and peace and quiet stillness. She and I would talk and laugh, and bask in the sun, and read from program literature. Enjoy the day as he would have.
I never saw him when he was at the hospital. I can't remember the last time I saw him. But I went to his apartment when he was gone, and had never experienced such holiness before or since.
I was so nervous when i arrived at the funeral. But when I saw his little nose sticking up out of the casket (in profile), i knew it would be OK.
Janet Marie's daughter stayed at the back of the sanctuary the whole time because she was scared. i was, too. a lot.
Our collective hearts were torn out that day. Grieving so deeply with so many.
And the gifts keep coming, several years after he's gone. He shines through me. I see with his eyes and feel with his heart and do for others (try to) what he did for me.
He read from scripture as if he had written it.
Janet Marie sat on the floor by his coffin with a stuffed animal (I think), because he was that kind of guy.
SO many beautiful flower arrangements crowded the front of the funeral home and stood around his coffin.
I got him tulips one year for Valentine's Day, together with Elizabeth and Mary. He LOVED them, and when the receptionist at work called him when they arrived, he was like, "I don't know, do you think it's a bomb?" just to gently rattle her.
The funeral was sort of in the format of a 12-step meeting. Tim opened the meeting with raw raw unadulterated pain in his trembling voice like i've never heard from anyone. it drove daggers of ice into my heart and mind and rained down on me like a cold, brutal, biting day in belgium. he has so much public speaking experience and training. i cannot believe his strength as he got through those early days, and as the loss of Brian spreads out from us to the ends of the earth.
I said good bye to Brian. I cried so hard. I did not understand why he was so still. I wanted him to move and stand up and get out of his coffin. I talked to him but he could not hear me. He was wearing a suit that Tim had picked out, I think. Mary said he must have been wearing tons of skin-toned makeup because he was bright yellow when he died, because of the jaundice and organ failure.
I saw a picture of him when he was near the end, in his hospital bed. He looked so small. But as he was getting smaller, something else was getting a lot bigger. And I think he knew it. His hospital room was adorned with flowers and garlands, stuffed animals and pictures. So much love. They had to turn visitors away because it was too stressful for him. Mary and Elizabeth and Tim were with him the entire time, and possibly his family. Janet Marie and I had each other. We would visit his grave together, sometimes. He was so there. I was so wrapped in his presence and peace and quiet stillness. She and I would talk and laugh, and bask in the sun, and read from program literature. Enjoy the day as he would have.
I never saw him when he was at the hospital. I can't remember the last time I saw him. But I went to his apartment when he was gone, and had never experienced such holiness before or since.
I was so nervous when i arrived at the funeral. But when I saw his little nose sticking up out of the casket (in profile), i knew it would be OK.
Janet Marie's daughter stayed at the back of the sanctuary the whole time because she was scared. i was, too. a lot.
Our collective hearts were torn out that day. Grieving so deeply with so many.
And the gifts keep coming, several years after he's gone. He shines through me. I see with his eyes and feel with his heart and do for others (try to) what he did for me.
He read from scripture as if he had written it.
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