It’s been a rather unusual week. This week we received our copies of Hannah’s death certificates from the County Medical Examiner’s Office. It was a bit of a cold, formal reminder of our loss. The investigation into the events that took place from interviewing me, from examining the paperwork from the hospitals, and from viewing the remains confirmed that her death was accidental due to complications of an allergy. For those who have not had to handle this sort of thing, these certificates are necessary for proving the passing of a loved one in order to finalize their “estate.” In our case, we were greatly benefited by the fact that we had joint bank accounts with Hannah, her car was in our name, her phone was on our plan, her insurance was through us, and her mailing address remained here at our house. If she were to have each of these solely in her name, getting her final affairs in order would be far more difficult. Taxes remains the final “obligation” she has here on earth. Yes, death and taxes remain the most certain things in life.
We also attended two funerals this week. One was for our friend Joan and one for Roger, the dad and grandfather of some friends of ours. These were the first funerals that we have attended since saying goodbye to Hannah. We greeted the families shortly after our arrival, and as is often the case, we had nothing to say except that we were sorry. At that point in a family’s life, there are no words that will help them feel better. They are aware of the positives and the silver linings, and they didn’t need eloquent words of wisdom or just reminders of “better times”. Yes, expressions of appreciation for their loved one are certainly appropriate and kind words never go out of style, but in these situations, words just don’t seem to be enough. The best thing, perhaps, that can be communicated is just a simple “I’m sorry and I am here for you.” They need empathy not sympathy. I cannot take their pain away, but I can let them know that they are not alone, I do understand, and I do know what they are going through. It’s going to hurt, and it’s going to be hard, but we do care, we do understand, we are sorry that this has taken place, we love them, and we are here for them. Sorrow is not a yoke that can be easily removed. Instead, it is a burden that we can help another bear.
After losing Hannah, we also felt a closer connection with the funeral service and especially the hymns that were sung. At these times thoughts of heaven are predominant. Thoughts of those who we have seen go already, and thoughts of those who we are saying goodbye to then, each build within us a desire to leave this world behind ourselves, and to be with those that we love. It’s like with each funeral our grip on this world and on this life, releases a little bit more. Yes, we do want to remain here to be with those we love who are still alive, but the uncertainty of how we will pass is a looming specter and as the number of friends and family that go on before us continues to rise, the fear of our own mortality seems to diminish. Perhaps in time this will lead us to a point where we too are “ready to go”.
Also, this week we were looking through a few of Hannah’s things. She did keep some journals, or perhaps these are more like notebooks of her thoughts. It’s nice to be able to look back and see her thoughts. It definitely can tear at the heart, but these are good reminders and connections to her. I think we will end this post with a song that we found in one of these notebooks that she wrote the words for. She wrote these words at age 14 in late July of 2019.
Verse 1:
Somewhere in the world,
A heart is yearning.
Somewhere in the world,
A soul is searching.
Chorus:
Will you get up,
And take a stand?
Will you get up,
And give that soul a hand?
Verse 2:
Somewhere in the world,
A person cried.
For someone in the world,
Our Savior died.
Verse 3:
Somewhere in the world,
A person prayed.
Somewhere in the world,
A soul is saved!
Verse 4:
Somewhere in heaven,
The angels sing!
Somewhere in heaven,
All praise our King!
We are blessed.
Hannah Helps 