Last year at this time, I was deep in the grieving process. First, in October, my husband’s grandfather and a dear family friend passed on. No sooner had we begun to take a breath from those deaths, we learned of the tragic loss of a 9-year-old girl at our school in December, and in January, a friend of mine lost one of her infant twins. And finally, a few weeks prior, on Christmas Eve, my blogging friend, Emilie Lemmons, left this world and her dear husband and two young children due to a rare soft-tissue sarcoma.
Those deaths all changed me. In the year since, I feel closer to God and more deeply committed to my family. I moved through a cancer scare of my own, and then began hearing reports of other dear ones receiving the diagnoses I had escaped. Currently, there are three precious people in my life, all around my age, all parents of young children, waiting for a miracle that will bring them more time with their children and spouses and families. The cycles of life and death continue and are no less easy to bear. Even so, my faith has been enlivened through these losses. My understanding of why we are here — to draw nearer to our Creator — has been firmed up. That doesn’t make these pronouncements of terminal illness any more comprehensible, but it helps me see more clearly how we’re all traveling toward the same end. It reminds me that in our quest to search for the big miracle, we cannot forget to notice all the little ones along the way.
I’ve been especially reflective this month on the death of Emilie Lemmons. It was absolutely devastating to learn, last Christmas Eve, that she’d left us. Her whole blogging community let out an almost audible, collective gasp when we read her last post written by her husband, Steve. And I’ve wanted to offer some kind of memorial blog post to Emilie as the anniversary of her death approaches. This past year, I’ve kept a link to her blog, lemmondrops, on my Peace Garden Mama I blog list, hoping others would have a chance to read her life-giving words. I also wanted to share a post I wrote a year ago that expressed my grieving from the periphery (see below). The photo below is one Emilie gave me permission to use — a candid shot of her and the boys relaxing together on the bed shortly after she received news her cancer likely would be terminal.
In her dying, Emilie left the gift of friendship. Over the year, I have gotten to know several of her good friends, and have connected with a new friend here in town who followed Emilie’s blog and grieved with me when she died. We’ve become closer because of Emilie. It’s a very selfish result of Emilie’s premature death that I have been gifted with these new relationships, but I’d also like to believe Emilie has fostered some of this herself. I believe in the communion of saints. I very much believe she’s still among us and bringing us together in ways that would have been impossible before. And I am very grateful.
One limitation of the blogging world has become very clear in the wake of Emilie’s death. Other than a few fleeting updates, I really have not been able to learn too much about how her family is faring. They deserve their privacy and I respect that. I will continue to pray for their safe-keeping. But I will always wonder, and hope that they went on to flourish despite their great loss. It would be great someday to see a photo of her grown sons, strapping and handsome and thriving. That is an image of hope I hold in my heart.
This week, my friend Marie and I will gather to celebrate Emilie’s life in person. I look forward to our time together toasting to this wonderful fellow writer and mother.
Emilie, and all those who have passed on this year, you are precious to me. Thanks for the life you gave so that I might see more clearly.
Grieving from the Periphery: In Memory of Emilie Lemmons
What have those who have passed on taught you?
I just wanted to say how much your post touched me! I started reading your blog not too long ago (and happened upon Emilie’s around the same time) and have really enjoyed it.
What you have said here is absolutely beautiful and your point about the reason for our existence (to grow closer to God) really struck home for me–at a time when I’m struggling a bit on my own faith journey. Thank you so much!
Roxane,
Thank you so much for these beautiful words on a beautiful women. I first learend of Emilie through your blog, and have since read every word she wrote on her blog. Her strength, courage and faith was a light for me as I feared this year I would lose my young husband.
Since that time, I have connected with another women who knew and loved her. I feel called to pray for her family, and for her, and I didn’t even learn of her until a month after her passing. To me, this is a testiment to how wonderful and holy this women was, and still is.
Thank you for this gift, and know your words and faith have also been a light to me this year. God bless you. Merry Christmas!
Ah, Roxane, I have tears in my eyes. What an inspiration she must have been…I look forward to spending some great time on her blog.
Those who have passed on, as you said, teach me what matters. These days I cling less to things and more to love, which first comes from the Savior. This is what I’ve learned, for as the Bible and my dear grandfather’s headstone states, “Love is eternal”.
Wow, Roxane, that was a lot of loss to experience in a short amount of time. And I think it does help us to reflect upon what is truly important in our own lives. I hope if anything like that ever happens to me, I would have the grace to smile just like Emilie in that picture.
Roxane, I have tears of sadness and joy rolling down my face as I write this comment. The sadness, of course is the loss of Emilie. The joy is having discoved a friendship with you that I know will last a lifetime. God bless you dear fried, I will see you soon.
Marie
This is such a powerful and touching post, Roxane. I am so sorry for the overwhelming losses you experienced in only a year. Any one of them is devastating in its own right, but to be faced with all of them in such a short time is beyond my comprehension. I read this post last night, but couldn’t face commenting yet. So instead, I prayed for you and for Emilie’s family. That picture breaks my heart, and I didn’t even know her. You are a beautiful friend, and she was (and still is) very lucky to have you. Thank you for your touching remembrance of her.
You really have been through a period of trial and loss. I admire your commitment to celebrating Emilie. I think you might find some personal resonance in the story “The Birds’ Christmas Carol.” I don’t even know the author, but I’ll see if I can find it for you.
I’ve learned that shared grief makes it much easier to move through. Thank you for your generous thoughts today. They touched me in return! Rosslyn, I’ll have to try to find that title. Shannon, thanks for coming back to share your thoughts after a pause. Holly, Jody and Marie, sending a hug to you for taking time to share. XX
Thanks, Roxanne. I, too, believe in the communion of saints and believe that Emelie is watching out for all of us moms out there.
What a touching tribute.
I think every person who passes on leaves some kind of mark. Emily sounds like a lovely person. My cousin died the day after Thanksgiving this year and her death made me appreciate all of my family, both immediate and extended.
I just got word this week that a good friend from college (and mother of 3 little ones), who was diagnosed with cancer 3 years ago, has just discovered that the cancer has returned. I ache for her and her family. I can’t imagine going through that with little children.
Roxane, it’s very hard to lose dear friends and family. What a loving post you have here for Emillie. It shows your loving heart.
As for what I’ve learned. I come from a big Celtic family. We’re very close. I lost my brother, Roland, on November 4th this year. Devastating is an understatement. He was such a presence in our family.
I’ve learned that strong faith doesn’t mean you CAN’T or shouldn’t grieve. Grieving DOESN’T negate our trust in God’s promises.
I remember that even God’s son, Jesus, wept when her heard of his dear friend Lazarus’s death. And Jesus knew his father’s capabilities, yet his compassion for not only his own loss, but what this death meant to Lazarus’ sisters and family, is a lesson to us. I loved the way he put death into perspective. He told his apostles that Lazarus was *sleeping*. Meaning, he knew his father had the power to awaken him. When God granted Jesus the gift of ressurecting Lazarus, what joy there was!
The second thing I’ve learned. Life is precious. Every day is gift from God to us. Every day with those we love is a gift. So long as we are alive, we can make changes. Take the time to heal rifts, assure your family how dear they are to you. Let your friends know how much you appreciate them. And don’t WAIT to do so. Tomorrow could be too late to tell someone how dear they are.
My brother Roland had a recently developed disorder that attacked his red blood cell. We weren’t expecting his death this soon. He lived a little beyond a year from diagnoises. He fought hard to live, making it through several crisis. He knew this would eventually kill him. We thought in terms of several years. He used his time wisely and lived well. We knew he loved us. Vise versa. His strong faith remained intact despite his illness. He didn’t blame God, instead he relied on him all the more.
He came home from hosptial on Monday afternoon, with hospice. His red blood cells were no longer replicating.
Tuesday afternoon, he threw a family party. It was a gorgeous sunny day so beautiful that it hurt your heart. He laughed and teased, he held the little ones, he spoke to my unborn grandniece through her mom’s belly telling her she couldn’t be born on his birthday, December 4th, but she could come on the 3rd or the 5th. (Nikki was born on the 3rd). He wanted our family to have joy. Concentrate and appreciate life and not focus on death.
He didn’t really look sick. But what a wonderful memory he left. A Golden day of sunshine and family, music and food, and so much laughter and love. He died on Wednesday afternoon surrounded by his family, and talking about God’s promises and the hope he had of seeing us all again. Just before he took his last breaths, he was talking to God.
Lesson? Life is a gift. Don’t squander it. Don’t waste your breath on anger at God, draw close to him.
May blessing and peace be with you. 🙂
Sia, I think you’ve just left the most touching comment I’ve ever received, and that’s saying a lot. Many have been beautifully moving. But this…this is another blog post in and of itself. Your description of your brother’s last day is so poignant. Thank you so very much for taking time to share your very recent grieving experience with us. I will keep you and your brother and family in my prayers as you face life without him. Surely, though, he is with you/us now in an even more profound way than before. I hope you will have a chance to read Emilie’s blog. It is a beautiful tribute to life. Her last post for the Catholic Spirit will, I’m almost sure, affect you in a positive way. Blessings!
Natalie, I think those of us who are left behind and have, at least for this day, been spared of imminent death as mothers of growing children find stories like Emilie’s especially hard to bear. I will keep your friend in my prayers along with the others for whom I am praying. Thanks for sharing that here. It’s truly hard to fathom…
Gwen, “Love is eternal.” Wow! I am still thinking about that. It’s so simple, yet so incredibly profound and absolutely true. Thank you!
May the children everywhere who feel the loss or absence of a parent feel God’s love through those He sends to comfort. The holidays are not always happy when hearts are grieving. Thanks for the reminder, Roxane, to reach out and build relationships.
Roxane, you’re right. It was a beautiful post quote. I think of the tears in Steven’s eyes as he had to write it.
The pain and darkness one must go through in the dying process is unbelievable. No one can really help them. They have to come to terms on their own. God’s love shines the light to ease their way. He reassures them of his love, that their remaining family is safely in his hands. He gives them peace. He gives them hope that it doesn’t end here but that they will see those they love again.
Thank you for sharing Emillie’s blog. Her personality and loving spirit came through loud and clear. As did her faith. 🙂
I used to work with Emilie at The Catholic Spirit, the diocesan newspaper in St. Paul. We shared a cubicle wall and lots of fun conversation (about colon usage and significant others). She was every bit as wonderful as her blog suggests.
It is comforting to see that she is not forgotten, and to see how she continues to touch, inspire and embolden people.
Emilie taught me a lot about how to write well and, more importantly, how to live well.
Thank you for giving her this tribute, Roxane.
Roxane,
It’s Ellen! Thank you for posting a link to this on my FB wall. It brought tears to my eyes, especially seeing that picture. It’s strange, I try to remember if there are days where I don’t think about her or her fate, and there must be days where I don’t, but how can there be? If that makes any sense.
I am so sad for her. I mourn her life, more for how much she must have struggled.
I didn’t know you also had a diagnosis. What was it for, and how old were you when that happened?
I have not gotten to posting pictures of Steve and the boys when they visited here (hand slap now). I will! The visit went well. They took the train here and stayed for four days. Daniel is three and likes to help out and laugh, even if he doesn’t exactly get the joke. Ben is one with a mouth full of little teeth he loves to show off my smiling all the time. They both look more like Steve, with blonde, straight hair and all.
Steve has his hands full as well. His sister Sue watches the kids Mondays and a nanny watches the kids Tuesdays through Fridays while Steve works. So, he could be a lot worse off, fortunately he isn’t the type of person who would let his life crumble in the face of something like this, but it has changed him for sure. I think he realizes what’s important and what’s not in the grand scheme of things. For example: that big promotion? Not as important as home and family and relationships. He’s a changed man, but moving along each day at a time in a positive direction. No wonder he won Emilie’s heart!
Roxane, it seems as life goes on the more I feel her absence. I feel lost sometimes, she was always my anchor. Perhaps that was her biggest struggle with us, is that we relied on her too much for direction because she was always so put together. She would not admit that of course, but as I try to be like her, the more I realize I’m not her and I have to be myself and that’s what she would want.
Ellen, you have no idea how much it means to me that you’ve stopped by. If I didn’t have kids swirling around me right now, I’d be a drippy mess. Instead, I am just allowing myself to feel gratitude for the updates and for all that you’ve shared here, including your inmost feelings about your dear sister. I couldn’t imagine a more beautiful update. I almost responded privately to your question, but in case I’ve worried anyone else, I didn’t receive a diagnosis, just a scare with a call-back on a procedure that showed a “suspicious area.” This news came just after I learned a mother friend was diagnosed with leukemia so it was very hard to ignore the possible implications. However, I need to tell you that having moved through Emilie’s journey with her, even if from afar, as I considered worst-case scenario, I thought of her bravery and faith and I just gave it up to God. I really felt an inner peace about it, even knowing it could be bad news. Of course, I was greatly relieved that the second test cleared me. I felt like I’d been given a brand-new lease on life. (This was at the end of October, so very recently.) I don’t intend to squander that. I don’t know why God is giving me a little more time and that Emilie was not afforded the same. This is a mystery that will only make complete sense in the next life. For now, we have to be satisfied somehow with incompleteness, and allow that to continually move us in the direction of God and our loved ones who are already with Him. I love the thought of Emilie knowing all of the answers already, and remaining with us in our doubting and wondering. She’s with you too, Ellen, but as a little sister, I grieve the loss of your big sister with you. I can’t imagine if my one and only sister were to leave this earth before me. Like Emilie is to you, she’s my anchor. However, I just have to believe that Emilie will continue to guide you and is doing so every day. I will pray for a continued movement toward peace in the days, weeks and years ahead. I do think she would want you to be yourself, so I will pray for that as well. Of course, the essence of who she is will always be a part of you. That bond of sisterhood is so strong. But you are and ought to be uniquely you. 🙂 Finally, the beautiful images you’ve conveyed of Steve and the boys…it’s like I’ve been holding out on taking a breath regarding this little piece of my life, and you’ve just given me a gulp of air. I love imagining them together, doing the very best they can without their dear one, but still, finding joys in this life. That, too, is what Emilie would have wanted! XXOO….and with great anticipation as I await photos!
Roxane – thank you. I have been thinking of Em quite a bit lately. She touched so many people. I will never forget her laugh, that look she would get just before she would give you a little “tmi” or a BAD joke, and all the the wedding planning/infertility crap/and finally the cancer talks. She was a truly good friend and will always hold a special place in my heart. I lost my uncle 5 days after Emilie and it really makes you hold your loved ones closer. I look at my Eva and think of Emilie and Steve’s boys. They know love – they have wonderful parents – one here and one watching over them from heaven.
Roxane,
What beautiful thoughts are expressed here from you and everyone. I just wanted to let you know that Emilie has been on my mind so much as of late. I was going to tell you that recently, but so much has been going on as you know, and now here you have this post.
God bless you and everyone who has come to visit you here. This IS a Peace Garden!
God bless!
Donna-Marie
Hi Roxane, What a lovely tribute to Emilie. Over the past year I have often thought about her boys. It was so wonderful to read all the comments especially the comments from Ellen. lemondrops leaves a wonderful legacy of deep faith, hope and love for those little boys to read someday:)
Thank you Roxane and Ellen for the post and the updates. I always seem at a loss for words to talk about Emilie. It always seems inadequate somehow. I’m pleased to get an update about Steve and the boys and to reflect on what Emilie and the communion of saints means to me.
P.S. We are planning on a get together for Emilie on her birthday again this year if anyone finds themselves in the Twin Cities on Jan 16.
This is such a beautiful post! Roxanne, it’s been awhile since I read your blog (hanging my head in shame for being “too busy”) but it was Emilie that brought us back together again. I can’t get her out of my head this week – just as it was last year and as it most likely will always be at Christmas time.
Ellen~ Thanks for the update. I think that everyone who was a loyal blog reader of Emilie’s wonders several times a month how Steve and the boys are doing. Please tell them that they remain in our thoughts & prayers!
Roxane, what a beautiful post. Emilie was such a dear friend and I will always grieve her loss. She was a rock for me in the wake of my only sibling’s death 4 years ago. I think she understood life and death better than most people, even before her diagnosis. And I think she would be glad to know she has had a small part in bringing others together.
God bless you and your loved ones.
Liz