A Friend Set Free
Today I received word that a special friend of mine died.
It wasn't the phone call I expected, and I wasn't prepared. I wonder why, why I didn't talk to her on Sunday, or the week before. If I only had known, I would have made sure to go up to her, to say, "Hello, Mrs. Bayly! How are you?" I would have listened to that urge to talk to her last week, though she looked asleep. I would have let another conversation wait. How I long to grasp her hand just once more, to see her eyes light up a little, feel her squeeze my hand back, and see a smile brighten her face. I don't think she knew my name, but she knew me. I wish I could hear her say, with that smile, "Hello, my good friend," just once more. At a time when she had trouble recognizing people, I treasure that memory.
I wish I had known her better. I would have loved to hear the sarcastic humor I caught a glimpse of, to listen to the many stories she had to tell.
Isn't she beautiful?
The last few months, she hadn't spoken much when I talked to her, but she knew I was there. I am thankful for the last conversation I remember having with her on New Year's Eve. It was snowy, and I asked her about the snow and sledding. She answered one of my questions with a clear word. Then Pastor Bayly came, and he asked her about me. "Don't we love this girl?" he asked. She couldn't say she did, but she tried.
I treasure also the conversation I watched between her and Kristen on New Year's Eve. Kristen didn't know what to think, and I was surprised, for Mud didn't talk often. It must have been a hilarious conversation. The picture is now even more precious. I wish I had a picture with her. I don't think one was ever taken.
What a privilege I had to know her, what a privilege every time I got to see her. That time we took her to the concert, and she wanted to get us ice cream. When she came to our house and helped us with the garden. How she always talked about getting ice cream for the whole church. Pushing her around the church building she hadn't seen yet. Trying to convince her that she had, in fact, eaten, and no one was trying to starve her. But I didn't realize it at the time. I didn't realize as I wanted to go talk to a friend, couldn't think of anything else to say, that I would only talk to her half-a-dozen more times. When she understandingly told me I could go talk to someone else, yet wanted me to stay, I wish I had.
I miss her, but even in tears I am happy. When I knew her, she had already lived most of her long, full life. Lately she hadn't always even smiled when I spoke to her, and her eyes seemed to not see. She was ready, ready to be free from her pain and the body she was trapped in. Ready to see her husband and children she had lost. I am grateful that she was spared for us this long, that she endured her illnesses and instead, went quietly in the night from her home to her true home. It is our loss, but her gain. She is no longer confused, will never again ask where her family is or what is going on, for now she sees clearly, and for that I am grateful.
Yet, it is our gain too, for it is one more treasure we have in heaven.
Death makes us consider life. Life is precious and short. We do not know the length we have left. I thought I had time, time to see her again, time to say goodbye. But I didn't. To be unable to say goodbye, to know that I will never again see her in this life brings tears to my eyes.
But I have no true regrets. Every moment we have had with a friend, every single one, is a blessing undeserved from God. Today is a happy day. That is the blessing of a Christian. Mud is healed, reunited with her family, and in the presence of her Savior. And I shall see her again, not as I knew her here, but as she is now, set free.