Carrie was born on Sunday, June 1, 1980. I remember being scared because I peeked out of my room and saw a shadowy figure asleep on our living room couch early in the morning. I crawled back into bed, until I heard the phone ring, and a strange voice answering the phone, "A girl? Carrie Jane. Oh, wonderful!"
It was Barb, a friend from church, who had come to stay with Chad and I. A new baby sister! A future best friend.
It all hit a little harder than usual this year, on what would have been her 28th birthday, and I know exactly why. Two weeks ago, Pastor B's brother and best friend, who was also 28, also passed away suddenly. Pastor is my age, which means he and his brother share the same age difference as Carrie and I.
Pastor B is really great at his job, and I can't say that for every pastor I've known. He really is right where he should be, in my opinion. As wonderful as I think he is, I was stunned when I saw that he was preaching yesterday.
I speak in front of groups all the time. It's a big part of my profession. Public Speaking does not frighten me in the least; in fact, I've designed courses to help others speak in front of groups. All this goes out the window when it comes to Carrie. I can rarely tell others about her without melting into a soggy mess, even 12 years later.
Pastor B. was talking about the Wise Man and the Foolish Man and where each built his house... "The rain came down on both houses. The rain came down on BOTH houses." Pause. He came clean with us. There has been so much rain on his house that he has not been able to see God.
Amen to that. I remember after Carrie passed, our family minister telling us that it is ok to be mad at God. WELL, HOW COULD WE NOT BE?
Losing a sibling makes you part of an exclusive, horrific club. I happened to sit next to my friend C, yesterday in church, who is about the same age as my mom. Before service, we were talking about Pastor B and how sad we felt for him, and she told me she'd lost 2 of her sisters last summer. Losing a sister hurts.
I don't want to relay the sermon word for word, because it seems almost a private thing, but the congregation applauded Pastor (and Lutherans do not clap for people in church!), a few even stood. I'm proud of him. Hurting with him, hurting with everyone who loses a sibling, that person biologically more like you than anyone--but so proud.
Carrie and Kevin--take care of each other up there.
Showing posts with label Carrie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Carrie. Show all posts
Monday, June 02, 2008
Monday, October 16, 2006
Blessed am I Among Sisters!
If you died today, how many people would mourn you? Possibly a great many. If you died today, how many people would come back to mourn you 10 years from now?
At Carrie's visitation 10 years ago, I was astounded by the number of people in line to say goodbye. Our large church had a massive line snaking out the door. She had so many friends. She was that rare kid who was really popular but also very real, and nice to absolutely everyone. There was no class or clique distiction to her. Well, maybe that is unfair to say since I know she was also very perceptive, but she didn't let some of the meaner social rules pertain to her.
One of the saddest things I have ever seen is the number...the horde...of teenagers crying on her casket at her graveside service. Of course, she died at such a golden age--16. She was a cheerleader, honor student, friends with everyone, of course they mourned her then.
But Now! On Saturday a stone was dedicated to her in our town's new Children's Memorial Butterfly Garden (sad and beautiful place...shudder) and I was astounded and humbled by the number of her friends who came! They came from everywhere! All over the midwest, Texas, NYC---all these "little kids" who are now men and women and husbands and wives and parents and professional people--they came back for Carrie! They still miss her. They still cried. They still love her and consider her a part of their lives! I'm 18 years older than she was when she died and I don't think I have affected nearly as many people. What a spirit she has!
Here are some pictures from the weekend.
After the race Saturday morning, the Educational Foundation presented us with this quilt, made from each logo from the race t-shirts for the past 10 races. My parents were so touched, and my mom did such a graceful job of accepting it! Here we are with it, Carrie's mom and dad, sister, brother-in-law, niece, uncles, aunt, and cousin.
Here is the stone in the garden. It was such a nice event, named Carrie’s Party by two wonderful friends of the family who thought of doing this when the garden was first being planned. It was a gorgeous day, the garden was full of friends, a quartet sang, and I missed Carrie terribly, but at the same time I was so happy to be there, as her sister. How did I get so lucky? It’s a little bit funny (and Carrie would have thought it was very funny,) but the date of death on the stone is actually off by a month—they reordered it and it hadn’t come in yet!
So here we are 10 years later and I am still being inspired by my little sister, to live so large as to be remembered and missed 10 years later; not just by family and close friends, but by a community that has grown and grown.
At Carrie's visitation 10 years ago, I was astounded by the number of people in line to say goodbye. Our large church had a massive line snaking out the door. She had so many friends. She was that rare kid who was really popular but also very real, and nice to absolutely everyone. There was no class or clique distiction to her. Well, maybe that is unfair to say since I know she was also very perceptive, but she didn't let some of the meaner social rules pertain to her.
One of the saddest things I have ever seen is the number...the horde...of teenagers crying on her casket at her graveside service. Of course, she died at such a golden age--16. She was a cheerleader, honor student, friends with everyone, of course they mourned her then.
But Now! On Saturday a stone was dedicated to her in our town's new Children's Memorial Butterfly Garden (sad and beautiful place...shudder) and I was astounded and humbled by the number of her friends who came! They came from everywhere! All over the midwest, Texas, NYC---all these "little kids" who are now men and women and husbands and wives and parents and professional people--they came back for Carrie! They still miss her. They still cried. They still love her and consider her a part of their lives! I'm 18 years older than she was when she died and I don't think I have affected nearly as many people. What a spirit she has!
Here are some pictures from the weekend.
After the race Saturday morning, the Educational Foundation presented us with this quilt, made from each logo from the race t-shirts for the past 10 races. My parents were so touched, and my mom did such a graceful job of accepting it! Here we are with it, Carrie's mom and dad, sister, brother-in-law, niece, uncles, aunt, and cousin.
Here is the stone in the garden. It was such a nice event, named Carrie’s Party by two wonderful friends of the family who thought of doing this when the garden was first being planned. It was a gorgeous day, the garden was full of friends, a quartet sang, and I missed Carrie terribly, but at the same time I was so happy to be there, as her sister. How did I get so lucky? It’s a little bit funny (and Carrie would have thought it was very funny,) but the date of death on the stone is actually off by a month—they reordered it and it hadn’t come in yet!
So here we are 10 years later and I am still being inspired by my little sister, to live so large as to be remembered and missed 10 years later; not just by family and close friends, but by a community that has grown and grown.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Carrie Jane Foresee June 1, 1980-September 3, 1996
Carrie-Bear,
I really can't believe it's been a decade today since you passed away from us. I remember thinking at the time that someday it would get easier to bear; at some point I wouldn't miss you so much. I realize now that is foolish, for although I carry you with me always, you are always too far away, and I miss you terribly.
I still believe you were there with me that night, in our old room at home. I can still remember so vividly the weight (your weight) on the bed as you told me that you would speak to me in dreams so we could remain close, and you have, although maybe not as much lately, when my mind is so full of other clutter.
I've never felt sorry for you; you are perfect, full of knowledge and with the Lord. I know Heaven is a much funnier place with you there. I do, however, feel sorry for myself almost daily, and I'm sorry if that is selfish, but there are so many things I wish we could share in this life. Of course I wish you were here to be a real, tangible part of Ainslie's life. Although she does still look primarily like Craig, she is looking more like me, and if you put pictures of all three of us at age 2 in a row, we all look like the same girl. She has your sense of humor. She thinks Booger is a hilarious word. She has some of your facial expressions, which is such a blessing, but also a constant reminder that you are not here with us. She almost has your birthday, and she was conceived on a cycle that began September 3rd. I wonder if you and she met before she came here.
I often wonder what you'd be doing in your life by now, at the ripe old age of 26. Your friends are getting married and having babies. Sometimes I think you'd be a globetrotting educator, like Heather, and other times I think maybe you would have been perfectly content to live in Slater like you talked about...but I think you'd be seeing more of the world.
I'm slowly turning into Mom, and you are not here to slap me like you always said you would.
You know, I learned so many lessons from you, the Much Littler Sister, and I am still learning from you and your exuberance. Somehow, at 16, you knew what was really important and what was just silly. Fortunately, we all learned that sometimes the silliness is what is really important.
Today really shouldn't be sadder than any other day; it's just such a milestone. 10 years. In 6 more years you will have been gone as long as you were here, yet your time here will always seem larger. Until Ainslie, you were the one person in the world genetically most similar to me, and even with our age difference, you know, we just had that connection. We get each other.
As much as I miss you, mostly I am terribly grateful that of all the sisters in the world, I got to be yours. I'll see you someday--I expect you to be right there to teach me some more.
Love You Always,
Sissy
I really can't believe it's been a decade today since you passed away from us. I remember thinking at the time that someday it would get easier to bear; at some point I wouldn't miss you so much. I realize now that is foolish, for although I carry you with me always, you are always too far away, and I miss you terribly.
I still believe you were there with me that night, in our old room at home. I can still remember so vividly the weight (your weight) on the bed as you told me that you would speak to me in dreams so we could remain close, and you have, although maybe not as much lately, when my mind is so full of other clutter.
I've never felt sorry for you; you are perfect, full of knowledge and with the Lord. I know Heaven is a much funnier place with you there. I do, however, feel sorry for myself almost daily, and I'm sorry if that is selfish, but there are so many things I wish we could share in this life. Of course I wish you were here to be a real, tangible part of Ainslie's life. Although she does still look primarily like Craig, she is looking more like me, and if you put pictures of all three of us at age 2 in a row, we all look like the same girl. She has your sense of humor. She thinks Booger is a hilarious word. She has some of your facial expressions, which is such a blessing, but also a constant reminder that you are not here with us. She almost has your birthday, and she was conceived on a cycle that began September 3rd. I wonder if you and she met before she came here.
I often wonder what you'd be doing in your life by now, at the ripe old age of 26. Your friends are getting married and having babies. Sometimes I think you'd be a globetrotting educator, like Heather, and other times I think maybe you would have been perfectly content to live in Slater like you talked about...but I think you'd be seeing more of the world.
I'm slowly turning into Mom, and you are not here to slap me like you always said you would.
You know, I learned so many lessons from you, the Much Littler Sister, and I am still learning from you and your exuberance. Somehow, at 16, you knew what was really important and what was just silly. Fortunately, we all learned that sometimes the silliness is what is really important.
Today really shouldn't be sadder than any other day; it's just such a milestone. 10 years. In 6 more years you will have been gone as long as you were here, yet your time here will always seem larger. Until Ainslie, you were the one person in the world genetically most similar to me, and even with our age difference, you know, we just had that connection. We get each other.
As much as I miss you, mostly I am terribly grateful that of all the sisters in the world, I got to be yours. I'll see you someday--I expect you to be right there to teach me some more.
Love You Always,
Sissy
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