My Sister, My Hero, Our Death

Good morning!!! I hope I have a few readers still with me. My posts are few and far between, but when they come, I hope they are rich and help you in some aspect of your own life. Or you may come in contact with someone who needs help in an area I address from my life, please feel free to share this blog. Today I will take a break from talking about trauma, to talking about what this date commemorates for me.

Today sixteen years ago my life began to unravel in a new way. My sister, encourager, second Mom, best friend, and biggest fan died. She was my hero! This day was the death of a certain kind of innocence. It was the day that life suddenly halted for me and my family. Yes I continued to go through the motions rising to meet the expectations around us, but feelings were far from me. We had some great friends back in those days who stepped in to help us with whatever we needed, and to them I will be eternally grateful. I would name them, but they may want to stay anonymous. I now know that I should have taken more time to heal.

I had not been in contact with my parents very often in those days, our family had been torn apart with conflict. But not long after I received the call informing me of her death, my doorbell rang. I opened the door and was shocked to see my Daddy standing there as grief stricken as I had ever seen him. He was a mess with sorrow. He fell into my arms and said "Oh Beth, I am so sorry". I think he knew how big of a loss this would be for me and my kids. I won't go into it now, but Becky basically mentored me in ministry, life, love, just about everything, and she was one of the last, if not the last link I had at times to sanity. When you've been reared in a house of cards, rebuilding with reality is very difficult. But this was a reality no one could change. Becky was the hitching post to which I hitched my ever changing emotions and she always led me to Jesus.

But back to my Dad, he then asked me to help him perform the unpleasant task of telling my Mom. My Mother had already lost so much and not by her own making. As I look back I realize that her choices had been laid out for her. So we set out in his car down highway 212, tears streaming down our faces. We both realized we were at the exact same place, but we found no words to form for the occasion. All I could think was, "is this real?".

My Mom awaited us and we sat her in a chair, I got at her feet, and as we told her I saw life drain from her face. It was the look of a Mother whose emotions are slowly sinking into the abyss of grief. We talked, we prayed and cried, we asked "why?". We asked "why Becky? Why now?". She had so much to do. Or so we thought.

Then suddenly, as always, reality returned. Daddy let go of her hand and left us to go perform another funeral. Good for his ministry, hurtful to his family. He really thought he was demonstrating Christ, maybe he was. But I can't help but feel that Christ stayed in that room with us. This is just my experience, it is what it is. God is still good. All for now.

From Roma with love