Judy's
Eulogy
The
following is the eulogy I gave at the prayer service for Charity on January 21st, 1998:
My Dear Charity,
Where do I start? How do I begin a farewell when I still can't believe you're
gone? How do I say goodbye to a part of my soul?
The day you were born I felt this indescribable
love. One I had never known before. From the beginning of your life I never
knew I could have a love that was so strong. When you were an infant I told people
how great you were and they said, "Yeah, but wait until she is two." When
you were two I told people how great you were and they said, "Yeah, but wait until
she is ten." When you were ten I told people how great you were and they said,
"Yeah, but just wait until she is 16." And now you are 16 and I am telling
people how great you are.
You came into my life and changed me forever.
Over the years people have complimented me for being a good mother but I can't take credit
for that. You were born good and you were the one who was often teaching me. I
believe you are an angel God sent to teach me. You taught me love. You taught
me honesty. You taught me how to forgive and how to be strong. You are the
strongest person I have ever known and you gave me strength when I was weak. When
times were sad and tough I looked to you for strength. You taught me how to be
myself. Most of all you taught me about life and how to live.
When you got sick and the doctors told me I should
hold you back you taught me it was more important to feel and grow like any other child
than to have me hide you under my wing. It was more important to live. And
that you did. You danced so beautifully, for years. And then your greatest
joy, cheerleading. You made me so proud. You have always been my greatest
pride and joy. I'm not sure how I can live this life without you. Remember
when you would cry and tell me you were so afraid because you didn't want me to die before
you. And I would tell you I wasn't going to die. And remember me saying you
couldn't die before me, so we agreed, we had to go at the same time because neither of us
could live without the other.
Why did you have to go? I feel you weren't done
with me yet. You have more to teach me, don't you? Who's going to tell me when
I dress like an "old mom"? You always helped me so I didn't look
like a "nerd". When you were gone for a weekend I would wait to buy
something so I could get your opinion first. I knew you would be honest with me when
I asked you how I looked. You always complimented me and made me feel better when I
was down. At times, I think, our roles as mother and daughter were switched.
You worried about me just as much as I worried about you.
It hurts so much, Charity. I will miss
you. I'll miss our camping trips, just you and me every Memorial Day weekend.
I'll miss you walking through that door and telling me about your day. I'll miss
going places with you, like Disneyworld and L.A. to visit your Aunt Lisa, and San
Francisco, your favorite place in the whole world. I'll miss your arms around me
and your kisses. I'll miss you calling me to tuck you in at night. "Love,
lock doors, buckle up, drive safe, don't scratch your knees, get your beauty rest, I'll
pray for you."(1)
When we were driving back from the funeral home the
other day it seemed so odd to me. Business' were open and people were pumping gas
and going on with their lives. For them life goes on but for me it felt like life
had stopped. It felt like life came to a sudden stop on Sunday when I found
you. When I touched your face and it was so cold. When I knew you were
gone. It seemed that the world should have stopped because you left it.
But you and God had it all planned, didn't you?
He lent you to me for awhile to teach me all of these things. He waited until I
learned them all before He called you back. He waited until you showed the doctors
about the hole in my heart and with your courage and support helped me through the surgery
and recovery.(2) He waited until I found Gary and we had our daughter, Summer, who
you named. He waited until you could experience pregnancy and childbirth through
me. He waited until Sunday morning, my favorite time of the week. He waited
until you picked the day you let the angels take you home.
Charity, I miss you so much already and I don't know
if I can take this pain anymore. But then I think, how can I be sad when I know
you're in a better place. How can I be sad when you brought me so much happiness.
How can I be sad when God is already working little miracles through you and
bringing our family closer together. How can I be sad when I feel like the luckiest
person on earth to have been chosen to be your mother. How can I be sad when God
gave you to me for 16 glorious years. I will thank God every day for the time we
shared together.
I was with you when we heard this next song for the
first time. It was when you wanted me to go to a movie. You said, "Mom,
this is suppose to be a good movie, it's about two best friends, just like you and
me." I didn't know what else it was about. The movie was
"Beaches" and I kept saying to myself throughout the movie, "I hope this
lady doesn't die." Charity turned to me when she found out the disease the lady
had and it was cardiomyopathy and she said, "Mom, that's the same thing I
have." I kept saying, "Please don't let this lady die." And we
cried so hard because in the movie she died from the same disease as you . This
song, "Wind Beneath My Wings" has always made me think of you and it says
everything I feel and I have told you that several times.
Love always and forever,
Mom
(1) These are the words
Charity and I would say to each other while giving the sign for "I love you"
every night when she went to bed.
(2) In 1993 the doctors decided to do an
echocardiogram on me to see if Charity's heart condition may have been inherited.
Unexpectedly it was discovered that I had an atrial septal defect which had been present
since birth but had never been detected before. I was 32 at the time. My heart
condition was totally unrelated to Charity's cardiomyopathy. Because of the large
size of the hole in my heart the doctors felt I was at risk for stroke or death and
recommended I have an operation.