Thursday we said goodbye to a friend and celebrated the life of Susan (Sue) VanSchoonhoven. S, M, C and I drove across the eastern pass, which was both beautiful and treacherous. We had a long time to talk and sing and play good music. We ate ice cream and told stories and cracked jokes. I never quite know how to feel when these things happen. I have been miserable for the last few days. Moreover, I have wanted to be miserable, to reflect the grief living in my heart, but being surrounded by my girlfriends, I couldn't help but feel some happiness...and a bit of guilt. Guilty for laughing at S's funny faces and jokes, when I should be mourning. Guilty for squandering the precious time I could have spent with Sue. Why hadn't we done this before? I had been to Japan to see M. I had made sure to meet up with C is Seattle, and S is San Diego, but I had never been to Cove. And this was the worst possible reason to go.
We arrived an hour early and went through the town taking picture and counting churches (5) and cows (many). It's really out there in God country, nothing but big skies, mountains, and fields dotted with cows and horses and the occasional house. I know Sue would have loved the landscape and the solitude. Since we had time, we stopped for french fries and milkshakes at the drive in and laughed some more and told more stories, each of us growing increasingly nervous about seeing Sue for the last time. Then it was time and we went to the church. I saw H, Sue's sister, almost immediately and she gave me the biggest hug and then all the sadness I had been distracted from pressed down on me.
For the next few hours, we shared our stories about Sue. Even those who couldn't be there with us, had a chance to speak. We read out letters and emails from around the world. Sue's father and sister spoke with simple eloquence about their Sue and who she had been to them and what it meant to lose her. It was something special. I don't think I have the words to convey what it felt like, but I want to try because those of you who couldn't be there deserve to share in this goodbye. It was like seeing Sue and meeting her all over again for the first time. Each person brought with them their own piece of her and we gathered them together, stories, songs, and conversations.
Then we were allowed to view the body and I will never forget it as long as I live. There was such an irrevocable finality to it as I realized, really just knew through and through, that she was gone. I thought of everyone I've ever loved and lost and everyone I will ever love and lose and I cried until I felt empty inside. But then I realized I was just emptying the sorrow. All the best parts of those people remain with me with plenty of space for new love. This is just how life is. We have to keep going. When H read the Neruda poem, I stopped feeling guilty and just felt grateful to be a part of the moment, to get the chance to meet Sue's amazing family, and to be there supporting and being supported by good friends. And Sue's family was so happy to have us there. They told us repeatedly how much it meant to know that their daughter had been so well loved, but really we are the lucky ones to have been so well loved by our friend that it would make such an impact on our hearts and spirits to watch her pass away.
Sue was buried in the Cove Cemetery, a place she loved and visited every time she was home, beneath a tree that kept snagging my hair, on a plot with a headstone bearing her family name. We blew bubbles over her casket and left her with flowers. Afterwards there was a reception and we got to really talk with Sue's family and friends. The apple did not fall far from the tree. She comes from a stock of brilliant, good hearted people.
At the reception, I finally got to hear Sue sing. They played a cd of her music. Sue's father asked me to tell him a story, but I think we got sidetracked, so here is a short memory I have. Most of my time spent with Sue, was time we shared with our group, but every once in a while, we would get together alone. Grad school was really hard on me, not the scholastic part, but all the other emotional stuff. One night when I was feeling angry and sad, I made my way downtown to where Sue lived. She saw that I was feeling bad and took me to my favorite Indian restaurant. We had a glass of wine and some good food and she listened to me. She was so non-judgemental that I knew I could trust her with the truth, so I told her things I hadn't been able to say to anyone else, then I started to cry. When I started to cry, she did too. That's the kind of friend she was. She cared. Months later when I was about to go to Japan and she was in the midst of Contact we met up again, and this time it was my turn to prod her with questions. It was my turn to help her process. And she allowed me to be the friend that she had been to me.
And now I have to say goodbye one last time. Sue, I will carry you with me wherever I go, and I will go and live as best I can. I will travel and sing and laugh and dance, so that when we meet again, I'll have some good stories to share with you. And I'll hold onto my friends a little tighter. I promise. I love you.
2 comments:
Thanks for your thoughts and photos. I only met Sue a couple times in the past year or two but her family has been connected to mine for many years. She seemed like a great person and I was very sorry to hear of her death. Her spirit will stay on though.
We never actually met, you and I but I remember you from the funeral. Sometimes I miss her so much I search to find things people may have said about her. These months later and I still miss her. I missed her when she was alive. You mentioned in a earlier post that she was hard to get out- oh god was she-but unlike you I didn't understand, I thought maybe it was me. She changed my life in so many ways and we had two lives together but the life you had with her is one I never met. Thank you for writing about her- it's like I get to meet her again.
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