Through the Valley

These past few weeks I have been walking through the valley of death. 

My oldest brother, Robert, who lived in PEI, had been unwell for the past few years and hospitalized off and on for the past few months. On March 17, I received word that he would be receiving ‘comfort care’ only.

On March 18, a crazy weather day of hail, wind, rain, sun and rainbows, word came that my brother’s soul took flight.

It’s strange this thing we call death. We know we are all going to take that trip. For as someone said, it is the “high cost of living.” Still.

In recent years my brother and I were not particularly close. Time, distance and different interests, took us into different circles. Still when death happened, I became that 7 year old little sister and tears and memories flowed. Memoirs of playing ball with big brother. Building forts in the woods and hay loft. Walking home from the one room school house. Picking potatoes on cool September days. 

Memories of driving in his first car. Walking down the aisle as one of the bridal party at his marriage. And not to forget, running as fast as I could so as not to be teased… just because.

Memories came flooding back of people and place - of growing up in the big farm kitchen, where everyone lived, played, argued and dined. And bathed from a metal basin perched over the hot water tank of the wood fired kitchen range - the same range were loafs of bread were baked, beans simmered and fragile newborn piglets would snuggle in a basket incubator tucked behind the stove. The same oven range that warmed our clothes on frosty winter mornings and thawed frozen toes after an afternoon on the pond. It was a different era. 

The visitation and funeral was a sweet sad time. It is a wondrous thing that friends from work days, college days, neighbours and classmates from that one room school, stood in line, offered a word of love, shared memories and went on their way. Isn’t it amazing how that happens? Who tells us it is the right thing to do? 

And isn’t it wonderful how we always learn something new about a loved one upon their death. For no matter how we know someone, no matter how our lives intersect with theirs, our experience is only one of many. 

Coming home from PEI, I stepped deep into Holy Week and once again through the valley of death. Through Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter sunrise and services of Hallelujah! 

As a Christian, I speak of a Holy Presence that carries me through the valley of death. You might call it a flame inside my heart. 

Depending upon the depth of grief, at first it may be the tiniest flicker. Still the flame brings peace and comfort. It lights my path. It guides my feet as I take the next steps. 

I dream that my brother experiences that flame in whatever realm of Mystery his Spirit abides. 

Finally, the older I get, I wonder… are we ever not walking through the valley of death? Are we ever not experiencing Easter sunrise? 

In Peace,

Elizabeth 

elizstevenson@gmail.com

506-650-4812