Jackie...

When my dear friend Jackie was in one hospital dying of cancer, I was in another hospital struggling to walk again.  So I couldn't be there, nor was I able to attend her funeral.  For years it left me with a terrible sadness I seldom shared with anyone.  I needed closure, but how?

Several years after Jackie passed away, I was talking with a minister friend about this.  She asked, "What are some of the things you and Jackie did when she was still alive?"

"Well, one thing, we laughed...a LOT.  You know, the kind of laughter where tears are streaming down your face and you nearly wet your pants?  We both had a wicked sense of humor.  And we would drink coffee and talk about faith, love, horses, sorrow, being on the road, and all the things we each still hoped to do someday."

"The two of you were really close," said Lori.

"Yes, we were.  She was much older than I, but we had a very close bond.  I was close to her husband too.  And they had horses."

Suddenly Lori had an idea.  "This is what I want you to do...and I realize it may seem crazy, but take a thermos of coffee, two cups, and go to her grave you have never been to yet.  Pour a cup of coffee for each of you.  Talk to her as if she is right there.  Pour your heart out."

"Are you serious?"

"I am very serious.  Then I want you to tell me what happens after you have done this, okay?"

"Which means I am going to have to do this, huh?"

"Yep, you got it!"

So, this is how I was soon at Jackie's grave pouring coffee into two fancy cups late one afternoon.  As I began talking to her, the floodgates opened, and all the grief being held back, came pouring out.  Afterwards, the sky suddenly opened up with one of the most beautiful sunsets I had ever seen. 

And you know what?  I felt better...a lot better.  I even felt as if Jackie were there.  Then it hit me, how Jackie absolutely would have loved being served coffee on her grave.  With cream.  Yet in some way, I believe she knew.

For love transcends all, dear ones.