A Funeral sermon
St. Andrew's Church
An Anglican Church • Grimsby, Ontario, Canada
Sarah Bloomfield
Preached by
Stuart Pike
Rector
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Sarah Elizabeth Bloomfield
Funeral - Saturday, 19 March, 2005
Born: 24th March, 1981 in Grimsby
Died: 15th March, 2005 at St. Michael's Hospital in Toronto.
One of the things which I most sensed in Sarah was how fully she lived. She was not a big person, but even during this past week as she lay dying, her hospital room hummed with her animation. This small person packed life into every fibre of her being. She did not live a long life here on earth, but she squeezed that time hard; wrung all the moments out of it to live it her way.
She loved a party, and during the course of her last days on earth, she wanted to make sure that she partied with everyone who came along. A couple of her Aunts and I have spoken about how, in the last days of her life, she certainly taught us all how to die. If someone could have written a book about how to die with grace and dignity, and especially with humour, then that book would have to use Sarah as its case study.
From last Saturday evening, when I went to her hospital room at St. Michaels, until Tuesday evening when she breathed her last breath, she was dying well. In between those times we were filled with unexpected hope which was dashed yet again as a new set of lungs were available, and then found to be not useable.
Through it all, Sarah seemed to be directing the course of her death as she spoke with the people who phoned or visited and awakened their memories with "remember whens." Stories of life and laughter and of the depth of relationship, formed over the years.
As I heard story after story - sometimes only a glimpse of the true meaning of them - I imagined a string of pearls being made. Each story was a pearl. And each pearl was precious. As she spoke with each person, she brought out her pearls and they glimmered and shone and we laughed at some inane adventure or other: "Remember when I fell asleep in the wheelbarrow?" or "Did you hear how I sharfed? What a mess, and Mom had to clean it up?"
Some of this sharing she did in great pain. Some of it she did within the high of the medicine. "We got some good morphine goin' on here," she said.
Sarah and I talked about death as well, and about what heaven might be like. One of the pearls which I had seen glimmering was about a ski hill, and we spoke about the perfect day skiing. The snow perfect. The perfect course, running through the woods a bit. Only this hill had no lines to wait for. It was all skiing - all downhill and no waiting to go back up.
She wondered if she had been good enough to get to heaven and I spoke about how we always put the cart before the horse. God gives us heaven as a free gift - we don't work our way into heaven. Then, knowing that we have this precious free gift, we can live graceful lives of gratitude. She said that she wasn't afraid to die, she was just a little sad, because there was so much that she had still wanted to do. She wanted to travel more. I said, "Oh don't worry, you'll get to travel." And she laughed, "Yeah, only it will be the cheap way - it'll all be free."
As the days and the hours progressed I felt that Sarah was like the director of a symphony or was a great artist at work - making a great masterpiece which was her death - died well, with consideration for all others and given as a gift to us all.
And now what do we have? Well, each of us has something precious still. When we have the strength and the courage to look, we can open our hand and see a handful of pearls - bright and glimmering, each one unique and each one precious. I remember looking at all the photos here last night and I try to imagine how long this necklace of pearls must be. The most precious thing about them though is that, even though each of us has a handful of them, they all connect together through Sarah. Each is precious, but they are all joined up and made whole in Sarah's life.
Sarah understood that, and that is why she shared those pearls with us.
"For everything there is a season: a time to be born, and a time to die ... a time to heal .... a time to weep .... a time to laugh .... a time to mourn ..... a time to dance .... a time to love ....." We thank Sarah for all those times. ".... and a time for peace."
As her time came to a close she started to catch glimpses of her destination. One time, she seemed to have drifted off for a second or two, and then she came to and said, "God was right hear" (indicating just over her head), "or maybe it was Jaimie. He was this close."
Another time she said that she looked out her window and she saw this great wide lake - it filled her view and it was crystal clear and perfect. Clear and refreshing. A perfect view.
Finally Sarah did what Jesus says in today's Gospel, "Come to me, all you that are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."
On Tuesday evening, Sarah entered into God's rest. And although rest it is for her weary mortal body - it is more full of life than ever for her spirit. The very best part about a pearl necklace is that it is not just like a long string - it doesn't end. It is complete when it is made whole and joined together in the infinity of a circle. And her life travels in the wholeness of that circle. She is skiing or boarding now. On Tuesday, her pillow was decorated with skiers and boarders with the words, "Ain't no mountain high enough" Well there is now! Or who knows what she is doing with Jamie now, but you just know they're having a great time..
The last thing I wanted to say today is that Sarah has an amazing collection of friends and family. Part of your gift is that you share her. In the midst of our grief, we need to support each other as you all supported her. Sarah knew that you get through tough times within the strong relationships which we build - leaning on each other. And don't forget to open your hand and have a glimpse of those pearls now and again. It might be painful at first, but those pearls are to be treasured and they will bring you comfort.
We are about to enter Holy week; and we will hear the story once again of Jesus' final week. We will read of his passion, of his suffering and death and, in a week, we'll remember how he rose to everlasting life. I feel that last week we entered another holy week. Sarah's holy week. We were even able to enter into her passion last week. And, this year, we know that Sarah found Easter a little early: her own Easter: her own everlasting life.
Sarah, we love you, we will always miss you. Live on! Amen.
(Sarah died from cystic fibrosis, a hereditary disease which is the most common fatal genetic disease affecting young Canadians. Their lives can be saved, however, if they receive a lung transplant in time. Sign your donor card now and tell your family about your decision. For more detail about how to become a donor, click here.)
