Maria

 

“Embolism. I am numb. Maria is gone.”

I read the post from my friend, Greg, several times but couldn't comprehend it. I had seen them together only a day or so ago – both so happy, completely in love, vibrant and as always, all smiles. How on earth could Maria be suddenly and shockingly “gone”. Social media exploded with messages and condolences and images of the couple. They were huge supporters of live music, known and loved by all in the music community and seen everywhere around town, posting cheek to cheek selfies at every event, so clearly good people and a loving, happy couple. All I was able to think was that this couldn't be real.

For the next several days, social media posts blazed with sympathy and shock as more people heard the news. The primary reaction was disbelief - followed closely by prayers – we just couldn't make sense of such a tragic and completely unexpected death, couldn't make it real. She had gone to work that morning, went to lunch and to pick up a prescription, and somewhere in between,
died. Greg was totally shattered and incoherent, barely able to make a whole sentence, not able to even imagine what his life would be without her. Friends called, delivered food, tended his dog and checked on him regularly but he was a shell, haggard and brittle with grief and not at all reluctant to admit it.

The service was comforting and bittersweet. It's hard to accept the pain of loss and celebrate someone ascending to heaven at the same time. Maria had been a person of faith, of goodness, and of kindliness and grace. Heaven or not, we'd all have preferred her here with us.