Good Bye Melanie- -A Tribute To My Beautiful Sister

(Read at Melanie's funeral, January 5, 2013) 

When I stood at this podium, just a few months ago, honoring my niece Jennifer, I had no idea I would soon be here doing the same for her mother. Since hearing that my sister had died I've done some praying. I've expressed to God my anger and my sadness, my confusion and my desire to understand. "She is too young to die!" I said, "this is not what a fair and just and loving God should do" Looking back, the arrogance is comical, but the response was an attentive silence, like He wanted only to listen.  

That said, I could not stop asking WHY. Why, God did she have to go now? Why not let her wait until she’s 95 like her great-grandma Talbot, so she could use old age as an excuse for wearing her right shoe on her left foot and her left shoe on her right foot and saying she couldn’t figure out why her feet hurt. Why not let her wait until she’s 78 like her grandma Ransom, so she could use her tired aging bones to explain why she absolutely MUST watch the Price is Right—and that annoying soap opera that followed it-- every single day. Or, God, why not let her wait until she’s 71 like her dad was, so she could say that she’s just too old to drive amongst all the crazy drivers on the road, “and why won’t they just home."

Then, it occurred to me that if Melanie had lived as long as those people she would probably have become so amazingly refined-- kind of the way coal turns to diamonds when the weight of the earth bears down on it-- that I would not have recognized her. There’s not a person I know now or perhaps in my lifetime who has suffered as much heart-ripping grief as Melanie. Even if she did not fit the mold that some of us, unfortunately, use to define courage and fortitude, Melanie held her head high and walked bravely through what is likely the most painful thing some of us humans have to endure: the death of a child. And, she did it three times!

Then, there is the weight of the burden of her disease: the disease of addiction. And, if by chance there are any of you who still struggle to see addiction for what it is: a disease, a medical issue--not a moral issue--I invite you to get the appropriate education regarding the true nature of this devastatingly fatal disease. (The information is abundant and easy to obtain online.) Like others, there was a time when I allowed Melanie’s addiction to justify and fuel my self-righteous judgments against her. There was a time when I proudly wore the “I AM NOT AN ADDICT” chip on my shoulder. And that badge somehow made me strangely better than my sister. Now, however, it's been replaced with one of those nerdy name tags that reads: “ Hi. I’M SHAWN, I’M AN ADDICT." You see, Melanie’s addiction has been perhaps the greatest teacher I’ve ever had. It has straightforwardly shown me the truth of the advice I once received from a beautiful old Shaman woman. “If you remember any of what I’ve taught you, remember this,” she said, "we will forever attract to us that which we fear, and we will forever become that which we judge.”

So as you can see, with all that stress and all those challenges, a deep and brilliant refinement would have surely have eventually taken place and, that transformation, I believe, was not part of Melanie’s divine purpose.

Now, far be it for me—a liberal, gay, Buddhist, vegan, drug addict—to determine what another person’s divine purpose is. So, I’d like to turn to scripture that most of you value as truth. I believe Matthew, chapter 25 offers a hint at Melanie’s divine purpose and an answer—if only an answer to comfort my broken heart-- to why this has happened now:

Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was an hungered , and ye gave me meat. I was thirsty and ye gave me drink, I was a stranger and ye took me in. Naked, and ye clothed me. I was sick, and ye visited me. I was in prison, and ye came unto me.

Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, and fed thee? Or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee? Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee.

And the King shall answer and say unto them, verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

In recent months, if I can just be really honest, it has been difficult to listen to and even see Melanie at times. Her disease had brought about changes in her body that made it apparent something was dreadfully wrong and changes in her cognition that made simple conversation awkward. Her speech was often pressured and her mannerisms came from a place of anxiety, self-preservation and defense.

More than that, in recent years, Melanie’s tremendous grief showed through every goofy thing she did, her smile and her laugh. When she wasn’t visibly mourning the loss of her beautiful daughters, she was expending the energy required to keep her emotions at bay. Melanie’s emotional body had been so wounded that to watch her go through it was difficult, to look at her squarely in the face was often painful, and to simply BE present with Melanie, sometimes felt like it was too much.

Hindus have what I think is a beautiful practice of bathing and adorning statues of their Gods, while joyfully imagining they are actually bathing and adorning those beings whom they love and honor. According to these scriptures from the Bible, Christians are given the same opportunity, except with fellow brothers or sisters, their friends and neighbors and even strangers and those they call enemies. Isn’t it comforting to know—according to his own words-- that when we did watch Melanie and when we really saw her and the challenges she faced, and when we were willing to do our best to just BE present with her-- faulty though it was because we’re only human—we were actually doing those things for Christ? Melanie provided us with opportunities to step outside of our boxes, to listen when the listening wasn’t easy and, and to love when it felt like indifference was the only path. Indeed, if you are a follower of Christ, you should offer up your prayers of gratitude for the assistance Melanie provided in the development of your relationship with your God.

Melanie—my dear sister, my friend, my teacher, my confidant-- thank you for sharing your life with me. Thank you for helping me to love and accept myself when to do so felt unbearably hard. Thank you for making me feel special and loved, for feeding me and taking me in and for visiting me while I was imprisoned. And, last but in way least, thank you, Melanie, for being for me the voice and face and light of Christ.

Amen.