Farewell to our dear Sherri

This is a special post from Sherri's family.  She had instructed us to send a last communique to her blog readers when the time came.

Our beautiful Sherri passed on Monday, January 25th.  As her body declined over the past two weeks, her radiant being was ever more vivid.

Sherri often wondered out loud what her purpose was.  To us, her purpose was evident:  She was here to enrich our lives and the lives of our children.  Her Godly soul became refined in ways we can't imagine.  The trials and torture of her body were the chisel only the most rare of God's children have the endurance, strength or grace to withstand.   We are comforted that Sherri achieved a certain measure of peace and serenity---though never without  pain---and lived life on her terms to the best she was able.

Sherri asked us to play a song during her funeral service, "Be Still" by The Fray. She posted it here previously and we're sharing it again.  When she played the song for us a few weeks ago she said, crying: "I feel God is talking to me when I hear this song."  It comforted her as she contemplated the inevitable arc of her soul's sojourn on earth and the transition back to God.  Anticipation, fear and love.

We will miss her terribly, she was our inspiration......and we are comforted as we imagine her lounging and luxuriating on a fluffy cloud of pure light.  Her parents Leonard and Rivian will take her the rest of the way.





Sherri also asked that we share a poem, "Epitaph" by Merrit Malloy, here below:

By Merrit Malloy

When I die
Give what’s left of me away
To children
And old me that wait to die.

And if you need to cry,
Cry for your brother
Walking the street beside you.
And when you need me,
Put your arms
Around anyone
And give them
What you need to give to me.

I want to leave you something,
Something better
Than words
Or sounds.

Look for me
In the people I’ve known
Or loved,
And if you cannot give me away,
At least let me live on in your eyes
And not your mind.

You can love me most
By letting
Hands touch hands,
By letting bodies touch bodies,
And by letting go
Of children
That need to be free.

Love doesn’t die,
People do.
So, when all that’s left of me
Is love,
Give me away.

Sherri will be buried in Seattle on Thursday, January 28.  The family requests donations to the Children's Tumor Foundation in lieu of flowers.

Fear of the Harp

This may be my last post.  It's getting repetitive and I'm in so much pain these days, it's hard to do this.  Thanks to all who read, and I hope your NF or whatever keeps you in pain, resolves itself....be well, be happy, be compassionate, be grateful!

When I was about four years old, I was a flower girl for the wedding of a cousin (who I don’t recall).  I keep the old black and white picture of me holding my mom’s hand and looking up at her, as she gazed back down at me.  We were both smiling slightly.  I would not walk down the aisle as I was afraid of the harp.  Perhaps that’s why I never got married, and why there is a tiny part of me afraid of dying.  Fear of that harp.

My dear, loving sister was here for a visit the other day.  She always brings such joy and wisdom.  I was crying on and off, something I don’t do often, and saying I wish I were stronger, I wish I never complained about the pain.  She went over to a bookshelf and pulled out that framed picture of me and my mom and dropped it on my lap.  Then she asked “Would you expect this little girl to keep on taking the pain without complaint?”   I burst into tears.  No, I would not.  I do believe our birth order got turned around, or perhaps it was different in another life.  Tami feels like the oldest, I’m still in the middle, and Jeff is the youngest.  She sure is wise.

So why am I so hard on myself?  What do I expect of my ability to continue to manage an unmanageable condition?  One that keeps me in horrific pain every waking moment?  I keep telling myself the world is a frightful place and is getting worse all the time.  What have I got to complain about?  I have food, shelter, access to health care and friends and family who support me.  Pain?  Pffft.

Except that I can’t distance my body from my mind every minute of every day, which is what I have to do to get out of my body like an OBE (out of body experience) .  I chuckle when I read about people who “can’t “ meditate because 20 minutes is too long to be still.  All right  then.   I just need to keep working on it. I want to get out of my body and watch it from afar and afar from the pain.  Wouldn’t that be nice?  Of course, I would be unable to do anything so that wouldn’t be too different than how it is now.

I have felt Oliver around me a lot lately;  Very strong sensations.  I feel my mother as well.  And the rest of the gang.  Sunday’s Seahawk game against the MN Vikings should be fun.  Being from MN, my dad was a huge Viking fan.  So when they play the Seahawks, I pretend he’s in the chair he used to sit in and we watch the game.