Remember

I was saying before that thru these tough days, especially looking back on Sissy’s Holy Week, I saw something more clearly about the Gospel, especially the life of Jesus. Then it was something like understanding why it’s so important to remember His life, the things He said and did. I was thinking particularly of that last week of His, where there was so much activity, so much time He wanted to spend with His friends.

Now that is being refined a bit. As I try to deal with the guilt that comes when I realize that because Melissa is no longer struggling here, and more time is opened up in our lives, I ask myself a question: what would Melissa want me to do? That is easy enough to answer, because as I so graciously know, there was nothing left unsaid between us. Even before she had cancer, we would talk about what do we do in case one of us dies, and it was always: take care of the boys. And we always knew that that meant staying close to God. The best thing we could do for each other, for our family, was love God.

So when I answer the question, what would Melissa want me to do, I live a moment with grief and hope, sad that she is not here, but knowing that if she were here, we’d be doing what we’re doing. That is an incomparable gift.

This weekend was a good one. Saturday night, we had a cook-out with Melissa’s parents, brother, his wife (Erin) and her parents. We had steaks, cooked corn on the grill, had some good potatoes and bread, dessert. We sat around and laughed and had a high time. Before the dinner, Connie (Sissy’s mom) was remembering how when Sissy entertained, she didn’t fret too much. The goal was not how good anything was (Altho it always was; I lose a man card here, because Sissy was actually the grillmaster), but rather spending time with friends and family.

Tonight (Monday) we had a fish fry at Sherman and Diddy’s (Melissa’s aunt and uncle). We caught fish (well, I didn’t; Roz caught three and told me to stick to preaching…), everyone just kicking back by the pond. And Sissy was not there. But she would have loved it—she liked catching bluegills and crappie, liked a fish fry, liked hanging out in such simple ways.

When we do those things, we honor her memory! We keep a part of her with us. We can, if we remember, do it in remembrance of her. The sacraments are really pretty straightforward if looked at that way.

Saturday night, did I tell too many Melissa stories? Did I remember her too much for comfort? I don’t know. When Brandon put the corn on the grill, I told him about how Sissy would grill garlic and the cloves would spread like butter. Or I’d recall how she did this or that. I regaled everyone with the story of me and Melissa’s first winter, when we lived in an old historic home, and she would sleep with the windows open, how it actually snowed in our room one night, and she had no clue why I was in bed with layers of clothes and a toboggan…

There is a curious moment in John chapter 11. John tells us that Jesus is coming to Lazarus, who is dead. When John says that Lazarus is the brother of Mary and Martha, he takes a moment to say, “this is the same Mary who poured perfume on the Lord and wiped His feet with her hair…” But that doesn’t happen until chapter 12. Obviously, everyone already knows the story, and John is heading them off at the pass so they don’t say, “Hey, isn’t that the same Mary who…” You can see the scene; John sitting with a group of people who want to hear about Jesus. “Tell us again,” they say, “we would hear about Jesus…”

Sometimes we don’t really get that Jesus was tragically taken from His friends. We get too theological, too church-y. His death is an historical fact, a religious doctrine. But the only reason we have a doctrine or a church is because His friends have said for 2000 years, “Do you remember that time He…”

One day, Melissa came with me to Lexington during the week. I said, “let’s go visit some folks.” Melissa—and this is just like her—said she wanted to visit some of the Congo families. We could have seen anybody—important people in the church, whatever. But she wanted to see someone who might really be blessed, and bless us. SO we ended up visiting with Noela, David’s wife. We had John and Joe, and they played with Noela’s boys Malipo and Benjamin.

We were there for three hours! They hit it off immediately. They talked about everything-- having boys, loving babies, cooking. It was a long conversation about the different foods in Congo and Kentucky. They talked about breast-feeding, and look, I was translating and I was kind of worried I might be crossing some cultural taboos. They just connected in a deep way. Noela, and this was so like Sissy, was Melissa’s first friend at The Rock La Roca.

After church Sunday, Noela asked me, “Is it okay if we name our baby girl after Melissa?” Remember…