Life without End

I buried Virginia today. Not the state--Tom's wife, mother of Philip and David, daughter of the Birds, sister and aunt and friend and teacher. Virginia actually passed away on December 21st, and her funeral was on December 24th, but because of our cold Michigan winters she was not placed into the ground until today.

Her ashes (the "professionals" now call them "cremaines"--how sterile!) were in a beautiful box, and I watched as her husband put the box down into the hole in the ground, lovingly laying his wife's ashes back in the dirt from which they originated. It seemed fitting for each of us to take a handful of dirt and spread them on top of the container--a reminder that we all come from the dust, and someday to the dust we shall all return.

From there we went to the elementary school where Virginia had been a teacher where a memorial tree was planted to honor Virginia's memory. I must admit that I found it amusing when the man digging the hole found the school's septic tank on the first try--I think that Virginia would have found a lot of humor in that. Finally a second hole was dug and the tree was planted. A plaque is being prepared, and there will be flowers and landscaping around the tree. After that it was time for the family to go and eat, and that was it.

Or was it? I still think about this family. Tom, the young widower who has lost the love of his life at such a young age. Two sons who are both in serious relationships trying to navigate adulthood without their mom (I still call my mom when I get sick--who will they call?). A mother (who will have surgery for her own cancer) and a father who are left to grieve over a daughter--an ever present reminder that parents aren't really supposed to bury their children.

And yet, in the midst of this, there is hope, for we are not a people who value life solely in terms of accomplishments and tasks. No, we value life for the relationships we build (both vertical and horizontal) that place us in a certain place at a certain time, thus giving a sense of "real-ness" to our presence. Virginia is more than a memory. Her presence is really here among us--I see her in her husband and her boys and her parents. I saw her in the kids at the school today. And I also see her when I look in the mirror, for she had a significant impact on me as well.

Perhaps we could call this an echo of Virginia that will live on as long as there is someone alive to relfect her personality and tell the story of her life. Oh yes, she has eternal life, and I am confident that she is in the Lord's presence right now; but I am just as confident that she is living on here on this earth as well, and I intend to help it stay that way.