Kay

 

It never fails. Whenever there is any type of wintery weather (and sometimes even just the threat of it), I think of Kay.

 

I think of the time when I went against my dad’s wishes and drove two hours in ice and snow to attend Kay’s dad’s funeral.

 

Kay was a pastor. She was a mentor and friend to many. Yet on that day—that nasty winter day—Kay, an only child with no living relatives, was completely alone…until a friend and I got to the funeral.

 

As soon as we got there, Kay came to the foyer of the chapel and hugged us. She then asked if we would sit with her on the family pew and ride with her to the gravesite in the family car. We agreed. We sat with Kay as she cried. We stood with Kay as funeral home workers lowered her dad’s coffin into the ground. We waited for Kay as she retrieved her father’s belongings. And we road alongside Kay as she made her way back to Harnett County. She didn’t have a cell phone or a reliable car. We didn’t want her making the journey alone.

 

Alone.

 

If I’m honest, and an accidental two days without my anxiety medicine will make me completely honest, being alone is one of my biggest fears. I had the fear before Kay, but after Kay the fear grew stronger.

 

Kay dedicated her life to those around her. She gave her money to those in need. She served tirelessly to enrich people’s lives. She was loved by so many people…yet in the end, she died alone.

 

She died on a Sunday night. We found her body on a Tuesday night. We watched as the rescue squad rolled her body away. When it came time to clean out her townhouse, we were there. But no one else was there. None of the people she had dedicated her life to loving and serving were there. A friend and I were left to sort through her belongings—to try to figure out what to do with all that remained. It clearly traumatized and impacted me in a very deep and real way.

 

While I know that there are differences between Kay and me—the largest of which is that I have parents, a brother and sister, nephews and a niece, aunts and an uncle, and cousins—there are also many similarities between Kay and me.

 

And so, on winter weather days, and on days when my brain chemicals are way off balance, I always think of Kay.

 

I celebrate the time when I know I did something right—I grieve her untimely loss—and I face one of my biggest fears, that of living and dying alone.

 

What about you, friend? What is something you know you did right? What is something you grieve? What is one of your biggest fears? Who is someone who has impacted your life in very deep and profound ways?

 

Please share. I’d love to hear.

 

In this season of Lent, may we walk life’s road together.