Eulogy For a Sister

I've debated whether or not I wanted to post this for a few weeks, but I want to get it off my hard drive and put it out there again. I need to do that so I can start writing/thinking about something else.
This was the eulogy I wrote for my sister and the song that inspired me to write it.
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Rain
by Patty Griffin

It's hard to listen to a hard hard heart
Beating close to mine
Pounding up against the stone and steel
Walls that I won't climb
Sometimes a hurt is so deep deep deep
You think that you're gonna drown
Sometimes all I can do is weep weep weep
With all this rain falling down
Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
But I'm holding on underneath this shroud
Rain
Its hard to know when to give up the fight
The things you want that will never be right
Its never rained like it has to night before
Now I don't wanna beg you baby
For something maybe you could never give
I'm not looking for the rest of your life
I just want another chance to live
Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
But I'm holding on underneath this shroud
Rain

(Thank you Jay for recommending the song)
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I have tried to write so many things for and about my sister in the last week. My hands have barely stopped scribbling; typing or gesturing since the moment the nurse told me that my sister’s heart had finally stopped beating.

I will never be able to listen to a piano in quite the same way. Her soft hands lightly pressed those notes like no one I can recall. Her voice ringing over that sound is forever etched in my mind. The sweetness of my sister is something I cling to and will hold dear until the day I die.

It’s so easy for me to slip into deep grief about my sister’s circumstances—circumstances she chose for herself. Even now, I would give everything I own just to lie next her in that hospital bed, just to sing California Dreamin’ to her one last time. But as the song says, “It’s hard know when to give up the fight, the things you want will just never be right. It’s never rained like it has tonight, before.” The years of seemingly unanswered prayer, sadness, loss, grief, anger, frustration and bitterness came to a sudden climax and in an instant she was gone from our lives. To be honest, I am broken hearted and joyful at the same time.

I’ve been thinking about art lately. My mom pointed out that the scenery one views near the shoreline is what most people would find as an ideal subject for an artist’s efforts. It’s calm, symmetrical, without description and simply overwhelming. Having just returned from the mountains, she told me of the huge art community there and that she noted how many artists had found their muse in the rugged, multicolored terrain of those mountains and foothills. They saw the beauty of all that asymmetrical chaos. I’m sure her metaphor isn’t lost on any of you. Melanie wasn’t like me, she wasn’t like anyone I’ve ever known. She was meant for another life—her life could never be that shoreline, she reflected the mountains instead. God adored the glory of that chaos and always sought her beauty like a jealous lover.

I keep thinking about how many times in my life I’ve questioned the existence of Heaven and hell—about the existence of an involved and benevolent God. During painful times I have wished I could simply abandon this persistent belief and just react without regard, but God has spoken to me over and over again. The cynic in me is silenced by the voice of God. Melanie experienced that same annoying persistence in her tumultuous relationship with her savior-to-be. Her innate defiance put her at odds with the ultimate authority and she challenged God as perhaps Job challenged God. Many times she pushed Him, but He was unmoved. She cursed Him, and He spoke words of love. She raged against Him, and He listened to every word.

Melanie’s struggle with addiction was no secret, or at least, it shouldn’t have been. From the age of 12, this war waged within her—an epic battle between substance and love. In the end of her life, LOVE won out. God never left her side, he never stopped wooing her and he proved a jealous and faithful lover. I know that God didn’t let her slip into eternity until he had her safely in his arms and today I say with no small amount of joy that she has been delivered by the fire directly into his loving arms. Without her flesh, her faith has been perfected.

They say the artist never finishes his work, but simply abandons it. Thankfully God is a creator and not an artist. His work is finish-able and He is faithful to complete it. We prayed for my sister’s salvation from her demons, from addiction—we prayed for total and complete rescue from the torture she had made her life. In the most gallant gesture, her Creator has completed His masterpiece and she now plays her beautiful, otherworldly music for Him.