The Strife is O’er

My mother’s earthly journey ended at 11:00 pm, Thursday Night, January 29, 2009. I had left the hospital at about 9:00 pm, so when my sister-in-law called right after 11:00 pm, my wife, son, and I returned. I needed to see her “at rest.” Even though we’re pretty sure that she had not been consciously aware for about five days, her body put up an impressive battle hanging on to life longer than any of us thought possible. Right after her death, one of my first feelings was relief, for her and for us, but it didn’t take long to become aware of the huge hole that she left behind. That hole was temporarily filled by the myriad details that faced us beginning Friday. We wrote the obituary, worked out final details with the funeral home, and then planned her memorial service with the Priest and organist at the Episcopal Church where she had found a spiritual/musical home here in Kalamazoo. And of course, we’ve been dealing with clearing out and cleaning out her apartment.

The memorial service was Monday. My brother and I both felt it was “perfect.” Not only was the music and liturgy objectively wonderful, but the inner experience was just right, too. I rode on a wave of deep feeling throughout the service. It’s hard to identify just what the feelings were underneath the copious tears. I know some of it was sadness and some of it was nostalgia for the many musical and worship experiences shared with her over many years. Some of it was a deep sense of the sacred that expressed a deep “knowing” of our spiritual and ongoing connectedness. Frankly, some of the tears came from the pure beauty of it all. The service concluded with Bach’s “Toccata and Fugue in D Minor.” All I could think was. “Take that, Mom. That’ll send you on your way in style.” If you don’t know that one, it’s worth listening to sometime.

As a “liberal theologian,” I sometimes struggle with religious language that seems too concrete, too gender specific, or too sin/guilt oriented. I realized during the memorial service that the underlying spiritual experience was undeniably “real”, and that any words, music, or ritual would always be inadequate to express it fully. Still, the combination of music, carefully chosen scripture, participation of my son and niece, the Eucharistic celebration, and Rev. Beth’s well chosen words came pretty close to fullness. The limitations of any of those didn’t matter. The total experience worked and I am changed by it.

We’ll be traveling Wednesday (2/3) and will soon be getting back into the routine. But I have received several meaningful gifts of understanding as a result of going through the events of the last couple of weeks. My experience reinforces my long held belief in the validity of every individual’s unique experience. My brother reminded me of the bumper sticker that says, “Don’t believe everything you think!” Experience often creates opportunity for us to broaden our ways of thinking. I now have more first-hand knowledge of the “reality” that words, beliefs, and rituals attempt to express.

As a family, we have received comfort, but we also have been challenged by Mom’s example. She always worked to improve her “gifts” to share with the world and she lived with intensity to the end. I hope always to do the same.

You can find my mother’s obituary at:
http://www.legacy.com/Kalamazoo/DeathNotices.asp?Page=LifeStory&PersonId=123560632

Wayne Gustafson
“Never place a period where God has placed a comma.” – Gracie Allen
The United Church___of Christ