Saturday, July 7, 2007

Dear God,

Today I returned Ann to her final resting place.

It must have been a year ago when I tried to talk Ann into flying to Maine with my daughter and me. She remembered visiting York, Maine decades before. She loved it, thought it was so peaceful. She dreamed of returning to York one day. But Ann had liver cancer, brought on by drugs used to treat her Hepatitus C. Doctors tried everything to save Ann. And she always believed she would get better. She would say to me, "I would love to go back with you. Just as soon as I get a little better."

Ann was my first husband's third wife. She was a lovely person who just seemed unable to reach the heights of good living. Making poor choices as a teenager severely limited her potential in years to come. She married more than once but never found joy in her relationships. She was never able to have children. After many attempts at taking her own life, she would wake up to a new day disturbed and unhappy.

About three years ago she sobered up, cleaned up her life, grabbed hold of a more spiritual existence, became fit and began to smile. It was only a few months later that Ann was diagnosed with cancer. She rarely complained, working hard to beat the deadly enemy.

I liked Ann the first time I met her. She was sensitive, sweet and kind. She was very likeable and we established a friendship. Although Ann lived in Colorado we talked on occasion, especially after she learned she would have to fight the biggest battle of her life. I would encourage her, share my prayers and offer hope.

Ann finally came to the conclusion that she would probably not get better, thus could not travel to York. On that day, during that conversation I told Ann she would return there either while living or after her death. I knew she wanted to be cremated so I told her I would be privileged to carry her ashes and spill them at the ocean in York if she wished. She was so very happy. "Oh, Andrea, would you really do that for me?" She asked. I also promised her that I would dance. She was so touched, so pleased. It may have been one of the most meaningful things in her life next to the relationship she shared with my younger daughter.

Ann died in December last year. I carried her ashes to Indiana, kept them safe until I returned home to Maine. This morning my daughter and I left early for York. As we walked barefoot across the sand to the water, we told Ann she had finally arrived in the city and ocean that she loved.

I shared from Ecclesiastes 3. "There is a time and season for all things under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to weep and a time to dance." My daughter and I prayed together. Then I walked into the water, the wave covering my ankles. Dressed in my white dance clothing, I opened the plastic bag, and prayerfully I held the ashes of a truly beautiful lady. I spilled the ashes and the wind whipped them spreading them across the water. In a sacred gesture, I returned her to the womb, the waters of the earth, a place of tranquility.

After all the ashes had been released, I stood in the water, an open vessel, waiting for you to speak. And instantly the song came to me. "To you we sing, and happiness we bring, to celebrate your birth, an angel here on earth." A German birth song, I learned it while on renewal leave. What a fitting tribute to Ann whose truth birth came today as she returned to the earth. And as the song played in my mind, I danced as the sun broke through the gray clouds and spread its glorious rays across the water, right to the place where I stood. Your presence was with us, a meaningful display of beauty and joy.

Jill and I stood once again praying to you, offering you our deepest thanks for the joy we both experienced and I could hear Ann's voice rejoicing.

Most Holy God,
you bring people together
and offer them
peace and joy.
Ann came into our lives
and brought us
joy and peace.
We loved her
because she deserved love
after so many years
of lost love.
Your love for her today
was transparent
and we could see
by the unfolding events
that you fulfilled
Ann's dream.
We give you thanks
for the privilege
that was ours.

Love, Andrea