Another Birthday

Today would have been beloved Claire's 38th birthday. I had breakfast with two friends this morning and we remembered her. It is hard to believe she has been gone since August 2010.

Markers like this are bittersweet at best; to stop and take time to recall the special qualities of someone who is now gone is very dear... but it is also jarring to realize how life has plowed forward all too easily without them. In losing Claire I have experienced a very strange tension: I was (and sometimes still am) angry that we could not put all of life on "pause" and refuse to continue without her. At the same time, it was often a great relief that I had the new things of life to distract me from that unnameable ache.

Grief, after the initial shock and awe of the loss, settles into a strange stereo existence. On one speaker is the (usually) louder ups and downs, joys and challenges of everyday life. Yet humming steadily in the background is a quiet tune that increases in volume at the strangest times -- a visual reminder, a song, a conversation or a particular person can turn my attention from the present concerns onto memories and sadness.

It is a curious thing... Sometimes I have lovely, wonderful, fulfilling experiences or opportunities, and am so grateful for them. They are almost too good to be true, and I cannot believe I have the privilege of doing them. But what do I still wish for? To get to share them with Claire, to see the laughter and delight on her face as I tell the tale. I look forward to those times, but also miss them.

The photo here is of our last conversation... I was heading out for vacation, to take my niece and nephew camping, and stopped by to say goodbye. Those goodbyes were especially poignant because there had been several close calls in the few years preceding them, and at first I did not have the courage to say all I wanted to say... Yet after one especially horrible moment where we almost lost her, I decided to never miss another chance. Over and over I would say all the things that were felt and known, and learned a profound lesson in the process. Thank you Claire.

This morning as I rode my bike back from breakfast and memories of Claire, my iTunes mix brought up this song by Sara Groves called The Long Defeat:


I have joined the long defeat
that falling set in motion
and all my strength and energy
are raindrops in the ocean

so conditioned for the win
to share in victor's stories
but in the place of ambition's din
I have heard of other glories

and I pray for an idea
and a way i cannot see
it's too heavy to carry
and impossible to leave

I can't just fight when I think I'll win
that's the end of all belief
and nothing has provoked it more
than a possible defeat

we walk a while we sit and rest
we lay it on the altar
I won't pretend to know what's next
but what I have I've offered

and I pray for a vision
and a way I cannot see
it's too heavy to carry
and impossible to leave

and I pray for inspiration
and a way I cannot see
it's too heavy to carry
and impossible to leave
it's too heavy to carry
and I will never leave

There are many references I could give here as to what "the long defeat" means, but if you are a fan of Lord of the Rings, you know what it is talking about. At one point I heard an interview by Ms. Groves, where she talked about being inspired to write the song out of learning about the work of Dr. Paul Farmer and Partners in Health in Haiti: the whole concept of "losing" a cause yet knowing that we cannot give in to the loss is profound... and really the meaning of life for us as followers of Christ. The weight of sin and brokenness in the world is "too heavy to carry" and yet how we cannot possibly leave either. We stay for the fight, despite the seeming odds against us, because it is simply the right thing to do. As she says, "I can't just fight when I think I'll win."

That was what I learned from watching Claire fight that damn brain tumor for ten years. It was a losing battle, but she never gave in. Her redheaded stubbornness, faith and beauty refused to cave, and it took her without permission at the end. With the strength of the crucified and risen Christ, who is acquainted with such a fight as that, we persevere as well. In the strain of it all, I inch toward understanding what obedience means. We miss you Claire, we don't forget you, and we are grateful for the years we did get to have. See you again.

Claire

I write with a heavy heart. The dreaded day has come. At about 5:45am this morning, my sweet friend Claire was finally released from the duties of her long fight with brain cancer.

I have known Claire since... golly, I've lost track, it's been so long. 1998 perhaps. She was a leader with me in youth group, and on the first team of summer interns I had with the church. She started dating Cameron, another leader, during those early years, and we all caused a lot of trouble together. I was with them in the emergency room that horrible day in June 2000 after she'd slipped and fallen at a end-of-school beach party. She had hit her head, got scraped up and was brought to the ER because she was still so disoriented. When the doctors told her it appeared she had a brain tumor, we were speechless. Yet she fought hard and had the upper hand for many years, through radiation, remission and rounds of chemo. It was a glorious celebration when she and Cam married on June 30, 2001. Clouds from the year before seemed to have parted, at least for the time being....

Claire thrived as a teacher, first at Santa Barbara Christian School and then at Santa Barbara High, where she received many accolades. Yet the cancer (oh, how I hate it) pressed on and started really gaining traction this year. It stole her strength, and in the last two months her ability to walk and talk. But in this final week it came quickly, thankfully.

In her last 48 hours she hovered between unconsciousness and sleep, and wasn't in pain. Family and close friends were able to say goodbye. I drove frantically home from a visit with family in the Monterey area, and was with her and Cam yesterday in the hospital.

Though we have certainly known this to be coming, it is still so hard to feel the blunt force of it. I find peace knowing that she was comfortable, and that Cam managed well through it all. Her beloved doctors and nurses on the oncology floor at Cottage Hospital, that she's known for years, gave her their consistently loving and gentle care. This was the best way it could happen, sad as that sounds.

I asked Cam how their last time together was. He smiled as he shared about eating dinner and both laughing hard throughout the DVD rental of the night - "Cop Out" with Tracy Morgan and Bruce Willis -- a classic Carey choice. He carried her to bed, where she proceeded to have a poor night's sleep.

Claire's departure was quiet. In her final 24 hours her breathing rattled as her lungs struggled to keep out the fluids. The nursing staff moved her every two hours through the night. Each time, Cam would awaken, hold her hand and watch her settle. Yet on this last move, her breathing became especially labored - she struggled for only a couple of minutes, then passed.

These are the words that come to mind this morning. They come from 2 Corinthians, chapters 4 & 5 -- in the JB Phillips translation:

4:7-11 - This priceless treasure we hold (the good news about life with Jesus), so to speak, in a common earthenware jar (our earthly bodies) - to show that the splendid power of it belongs to God and not to us. We are handicapped on all sides, but we are never frustrated; we are puzzled, but never in despair. We are persecuted, but we never have to stand it alone: we may be knocked down but we are never knocked out! Every day we experience something of the death of the Lord Jesus, so that we may also know the power of the life of Jesus in these bodies of ours. Yes, we who are living are always being exposed to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus may be plainly seen in our mortal lives.
4:15-18 - We wish you could see how all this is working out for your benefit, and how the more grace God gives, the more thanksgiving will redound to his glory. This is the reason why we never collapse. The outward man (and woman) does indeed suffer wear and tear, but every day the inward man receives fresh strength. These little troubles (which are really so transitory) are winning for us a permanent, glorious and solid reward out of all proportion to our pain. For we are looking all the time not at the visible things but at the invisible. The visible things are transitory: it is the invisible things that are really permanent.
5:1-4 - We know, for instance, that if our earthly dwelling were taken down, like a tent, we have a permanent house in Heaven, made, not by man, but by God. In this present frame we sigh with deep longing for the heavenly house, for we do not want to face utter nakedness when death destroys our present dwelling - these bodies of ours. So long as we are clothed in this temporary dwelling we have a painful longing, not because we want just to get rid of these "clothes" but because we want to know the full cover of the permanent house that will be ours. We want our transitory life to be absorbed into the life that is eternal.

Claire has never flagged in her firm hope in the life eternal. I had several sweet times of talk and reading and prayer with her this summer about such things. I asked her two weeks ago how she felt about how things were progressing -- I offered "frustrated"? "scared"? "angry"? "confused"? and she shook her head no at each one. Yet she nodded a strong yes when I asked, "peaceful"?

My favorite comeback with Claire was "Now don't get red-headed on me!" as she stubbornly pushed back on things we were doing. Regardless of her amazing strength, she was unfailingly gentle, consistent and never pushy in her faith. I rejoice that she is safely in the arms of God, reunited with faithful, loving family and friends who have gone before her -- and jealous!

Claire lived a lovely life and and fought a classy fight. I shared with others this week that I have never been so thankful that this life is not all there is, as described in the verses above. She has her renewed body and blessed relief. That is good news. The greatest tribute any of us can give her is to allow her life to remind us of what really matters.

PS Here two AMAZING images of Claire - her beauty and grace are breathtaking:
http://www.zinkwazi.com/blog/1449/goodbye-sweet-claire
http://www.uctv.tv/search-details.aspx?showID=11818

We were changed by knowing you, Claire Michelle Carey. We miss you.