You were larger than life… I type this through teary-eyes, not quite yet four years from when you took your last breath.
You were larger than life. In the things that you thought, the clever and deep things that you said, the wise and insightful things that you wrote and the way that you loved each and every person who, unknowingly, had the greatest fortune of crossing your path.
You were larger than life. When life became small and difficult for me, your life was large enough to cover mine. Your life shined light in the darkest places in me and reminded me that my own life had unique and divine purpose.
You were larger than life. When cancer brought death to my door, your life was large enough to bring me hope and to breathe life into my home and my family. A resuscitation of sorts… an emergency breath of life physically, mentally and spiritually.
You were larger than life. I thought that would mean your life would cover the expanse of my time here and I would be able to not only observe the far-reaching effects of who you were, but encourage, enjoy and join you in your mission of sharing the person you were and who Jesus is to everyone in the room.
You were larger than life and because of that, when you were slipping away, I begged God to take me instead of you…. In a posture of gratitude that He extended my life long enough for my daughters to know me, or maybe as a bargain or a sacrifice, or a trade… I don’t know. As I sit here now, I don’t know why I did that, and I don’t know why I thought that it would work. But I begged and begged Him to give you more time. Time with your sweet Mom and Dad, your Brother and nephews, with your husband. Time for all who knew you or had the possibility to get that chance, but mostly for those sweet babies of yours. You were their person. Their compass. Their cheerleader and the one that was guiding them down the road less traveled.
Seeing your casket at the front of the church, displaying a huge and beautiful spread of flowers and the rhinestone-encrusted princess crown that my girls placed there, it seemed so dark. So final. Even though I know it isn’t because of the overwhelming and glorious truth that Death has been defeated, this life was so dark when you left. My life was so dark when you left.
As I sit here, I’m remembering you. How beautiful you were. How clever you were. How funny you were. How talented you were. How clumsy you were. And how much you taught me. I just miss you. I miss our conversations. I think of you every. single. day. I look at the pictures I have of you and my girls. I read the scripts we wrote together. I smile at the funny things you said and did. Through the pain of missing you though, I’m beginning to realize something devastating and profoundly extraordinary. The only way I could ever begin to truly understand the height and breadth of your life, is in your death. And in your absence, the vastness of your life is confirmed. In the way your presence is felt still. So strong. By so many. And so it goes, presence becomes better understood through absence. Your life was large here, even though your time was short, but I know that your life will ultimately have the greatest impact of all. An eternal one.
I’ll see you later, my Darling, Tennille.
