Shawn Tonise Moore, our beautiful flower plucked away!
I realized from writing and reading obituaries, they are like cliff notes or a piece of poetry that only gives an abbreviated version highlighting a few significant attributes of that person’s life. You learn about what the person has accomplished, but you can never fully grasp the life of that individual unless you truly ‘knew’ them beyond the words on a program.
You know, when death in the family occurs, especially when it happens suddenly, such news stops you dead in your tracks, and you feel like you were violently tossed to and fro like debris from the eye of a Level 5 tornado. Last week, our daughter-in-law was suddenly plucked from our family bouquet at a very young age. She and our son were headed to what we saw as a future of achieving great things when death came in and told her it was time to depart this world as she once knew it. This left all who knew her, in shock and devastated. She made such a tremendous impact on the lives of so many and it seems unfair on so many levels that she was taken from us so soon. This is something we have a hard time processing and understanding, although we know that life and death dwell in the same climate. Our life’s plan of this earthly existence was in place before we were even conceived. How we choose to live the dash between our born day and departure day is on us.
Sometimes you feel you don’t have an ounce of strength left to just get up, as you’ve cried so much that it seems your tear ducts will dry up at any moment or you ask when will this dreadful nightmare end? Even though people offer their condolences, everything feels so surreal and as it is with life we are never, ever fully or partially prepared for death, even when an extended illness is the cause. It’s as if our spirit has been hit with a taser shooting stun gun, only this time life has been severed from the earthly vessels we are using right now.
Sorrow At My Doorstep
Why are you here causing me such sadness
gripping my spirit with heart-wrenching pain
suffocating my throat to dare not cry out
I did not summons you to come here today
Yet here you show up at my doorstep unannounced
moving shadows of the scythe-wielding grim reaper
crossing my threshold where joy and peace reside
interrupting smiles and great joy with sorrow
consoling my grief is difficult, caught in a tug of war
laughter escapes, as I know not when it comes again
a seething sadness stabs through my wounded heart
how can I move forward and let time help me to live on?
© Kym Gordon Moore
Everyone has their own way of grieving and processing death, as the pain makes our hearts heavy, and squashes our joy like mashed potatoes. Still, it can’t kill our spirit although it tries. We get through these challenges one breath at a time, one day at a time, and while we never forget the laughter, love, and joy the people who leave us behind left in our hearts, that void can never be replaced. We use the remnants from death to fertilize and nourish seeds that birth new life. Yet, we will learn through our grief and struggles to stand again, to garner strength from our weakness and at some point begin to smile a little bit more. For such healing, we can only rely on our faith and the precious gift of time, of which neither shall be wasted on foolishness.
For our dear beloved Shawn and several others who joined her this week on their transitory journey, we may cry and ask the never-ending question of why, but in our pain we must instead ask how did her life impact ours, so that we may make the necessary spiritual adjustments to be better servants and the pure, genuine kingdom builders God intended for us to be.