Life, Death, and the Afterlife.

Our division president, Kurt Cullum, died last week. Last night was his wake. All of the girls in customer service plus Verla were meeting at Roxie's house after work and riding down to Cedar Hill Memorial together, to go to the wake. They asked if I wanted to go.


I didn't really, but I also didn't want to NOT go... I would have felt bad. So, go I did.


Kurt was being cremated. This we all knew. So, we figured to escape the expense of embalming for no reason, and the rental of a casket, that we'd be going to mourn over an urn full of Kurt's ashes, and some commemorative photos of him and his life.

When we walked in, the first thing I saw was Kurt's gray, gaunt face. It was awful. But it was like an accident-- I couldn't look away.


We walked up to the casket to pay our respects. And the tears started. Because, I remember what he looked like alive-- and it was nothing like this empty shell lying there in front of me. He had so much makeup on, I'll bet it was close to an inch thick. And it was all over him, on his face, neck, hands, down to his fingernails.


But underneath, his skin still hinted at the gray undertones of Death.


I don't like death. It makes me very upset-- Even when I don't know the person very well. I saw Kurts lovely wife, Cheryl, standing next to his casket and I lost it. I made my way to her, shaking the hands of their children and muttering my condolences. When I reached Cheryl, we reached out for each other in a comforting hug, and we sobbed together. I didn't know her well. I met her only the few times that she came into the office with their little grandson to surprise Kurt. But we were united in sorrow, hers ever so much more than my own.


I don't know why death affects me so, even when I have no close ties to the departed. But I've been like this since I was at least 10-- and my Great Grandma died. But what was weird was, I was more affected to learn of the death of her daughter, Rosemary, although it happened years before I existed.


I suppose that, knowing what I know, it's ironic that I would feel this way about leaving this earth. I know that Cheryl will be with her Kurt again. But even if she knew that, too--would it stop her pain now?


I remember when Ricardo left me for a couple weeks to visit his family in Chile. I think I cried nearly every night. And I knew he was coming back soon. But the separation, though temporary, still affected me. I don't like separation from loved ones. Though I am fortunate enough to know what I know about life and death, and that the latter is a mere separation, it doesn't change the sorrow that I feel.


Did Heavenly Father feel the same way? When he sent each one of us to Earth, one by one, away from his presence and great love, into the lonely world? Where we would feel pain, and sadness, disappointment, loss and heartache?

I think I would die inside, sending my babies away from me. And how much greater is His love for us, His children?


So, while Cheryl and I mourned her loss, the temporary separation from her husband, I think Heavenly Father was rejoicing, to have a son back with Him, after a long (to us) journey.


I hope that I get better at accepting death. Because, though I am young now, soon the people that I love will begin to leave me. Grandparents, then parents. Aunts and Uncles. And, eventually, I may lose my own husband. I dread the day. Though it is selfish, I wish that I would go first, so that I don't have to live here in this world without him. I think that he will be so much more okay being separated from me, than I would be from him.


There is a sweet elderly missionary couple in our ward. The Harveys rented a house to Mom and Dad when they first came here from Ohio. Sister Harvey was recently diagnosed with terminal cancer. The same plague that fell upon Kurt's once-healthy body and destroyed him from the inside. Sister Harvey was given between 3 and 6 months to finish out her life on this earth.


Sunday, we had a ward fast for her and Brother Harvey. And they both bore their testomonies. I think the whole ward sobbed as they peacefully expressed their gratitude for the fast on their behalf, and their great knowledge of what lies ahead for them.


Sister Harvey is not afraid of Death. She is not afraid to meet her Maker.


Similarly, Brother Harvey is not afraid to lose his bride. He knows she will be happier, and with her Father.

And, they both know they will see each other again. They will overcome the Great Separation we call death.


As will my loved ones and I.


And, how sweet will be our reunion on the other side of the veil.