Dear Rosie,
Happy birthday! It's your first celestial birthday! I don't mean by that, of course, that it's been a year since you were "born into eternal life," as those funeral prayer cards often say. I mean it's your earthly birthday & you're celebrating it for the first time as a member of the Heavenly choir.
We always made elaborate party plans for our shared birthday. Your family certainly knows how to throw a fun party and you know I am always up for a fun party. Given the close proximity of our birthday to the end of the TAC academic year, however, it never happened. Perhaps if God had deigned for our shared birthday to be in July, for example, I might have been able to plan the trip. Or, if in His wisdom, He had ordained that we have a birthday that fell during the school year, it would have been a breeze to throw a marvelous party together. As it was, we never did have a party together. We did have enormous fun dreaming and scheming about them, though.
Now we get to spend every birthday together. Call me a sap ("You're such a sap, Bridget!" "I know... but at least I'm cute!" "...and predictable."), but I find this incredibly consoling. Without my faith in our all-good God, all I would be left with would be a huge Rosie-shaped hole in my heart. I have enough trouble dealing with that as it is. Every time I walk into the choir loft at our alma mater, I have to fight the urge to cry. I miss you. It's always worse when one of my visits corresponds to one of your sister Augusta's visits... I have so many memories of standing with the two of you, singing in that beautiful space, leaning on each other (physically and musically), sharing moments of pride ("We sound awesome!") and embarrassment (how many sheepish grins did we exchange as we hacked our way through a piece with great messiness?). That space is not the same without you.
My sappiness & sentimentality overtook me with great force at Luke & Jenny's wedding, which was just a few days ago. That Bollywood song, to which you knew every. single. dance. move (and, I'm sure, the name of it, too. I just label it with a pronoun.) came on, and we all rushed out on to the floor. Your cousin led us with great spirit and competence, but I missed you. Bollywood was your thing. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the great emotion of the day, maybe it was the fact that I was tired, but I started bawling. No, not pretty, dainty tears, but ugly crying. The kind that no ladylike person ever does, but I did. They were hiccupy, violent, and downright gross. Someone asked me what was wrong, and I managed to squeak, "I miss Rooooosiiiiieeeee..." In a moment of what I'm sure they deemed helpfulness, they gestured in the approximate direction of the town cemetery and said, "She isn't far. She's just over there."
Oh boy, did I stop crying then! I was livid. "No, she's NOT over there!" Because you're not. They may have laid your body to rest in that cemetery, but you - my beautiful, talented, lively, joyful, sassy, kind, generous, and awesome friend - are with God. You're with the Heavenly hosts. You are not in the graveyard. (In all fairness, I'm sure our mutual friend meant well and knows you aren't really in that cemetery, but the verbal slip-up had the effect of snapping me out of my self-pity-party, which we should be thankful for, I suppose.) You weren't far. That was true. Because you were there. (I know this for a fact due to that little miracle you pulled out for Lauren earlier that day. Thank you!)
Rosie, I miss you. So much. But it's our birthday. And for the first time, we can really celebrate it together. You, in your new role in the communion of saints, can celebrate with me today in a way that wasn't possible before. We've always been united in the love of Christ, but your union with Him has been perfected. I like to imagine (forgive me if this is heretical, but I don't think it is, so it isn't formal heresy, at least) that since your union with Him is perfected, that somehow our friendship has been made better & closer.
And today, we are going to PARTY! Because, you know, it's our BIRTHDAY!
Much love,
Bridget
No comments:
Post a Comment