In my last post I wrote of my friend, “aunt” Leora.  The next day after my post, Leora suffered the first of many mini strokes and finally died one week later, early in the morning.  I saw her just twelve hours before, in the hospital.  She still had a sparkle in her eye and the spunky attitude I had always known of her.  But the effects of the strokes were noticeable. Her speech was laboured and at times she found it difficult to enunciate.  She was hungry – the strokes had made it impossible for her to swallow and she didn’t want a feeding tube.  She was weak, her heart in advanced stages of disease and failure.  At times she was a little disoriented but she never lost track of who she was with.  She was also in love with her new groom, Lou, who doted on her with tenderness and at times tears. 

My husband was asked to be one of the pallbearers at her funeral, and we hosted the reception in our home afterward.  A small gathering of a few close friends and family.  In the days since, we have helped Lou figure out what to do with some of Leora’s possessions.  He asked us to take a number of items, citing that Leora had often spoken of me and he was certain she would be glad for me to have them.  It has been a tough journey for this gentle man; he has grieved that he has buried too many people for his liking.  It seems he is called to accompany many through their final days, whether young or old.  It is indeed a difficult role.  I have sought to encourage him to consider that God is with him in all of this, having entrusted him with a precious calling, and that He himself is accompanying Lou, inviting him to know Him in ways beyond his imagination.

Leora’s passing has also been a bit of a coming of age for me.  She was the last to live of many who had taken me in as a child, sometimes for weeks at a time.  I sense in quiet times with God that it is time for me to stand fully on my own, to take my place in a long line of others who had shown me in the way they cared for and walked with me, how to now turn around and do the same.  The baton is being passed and I must take a good hold of it, and run the next leg of the race well as a thank you to God and to those whom God gave to keep me in the race at all.

Mmm…I smile, knowing there is a great cloud of witnesses including Leora, cheering me on until the day when I too pass on the baton and then join them.  I pray that I will have the grace to indeed live well, offer myself generously and with the same love, compassion and respect shown to me.