Dedication

A beloved lady passed away last week. I just got back from a short trip to my home state to honor her life, and celebrate the ninety years she spent blessing people. She was smart, and funny, and gut-wrenchingly honest, but never cruel. To know her was to understand implicitly that in her eyes, you were enough. Children were dearest to her, and teaching and education were her passions, but it was the unconditional love she bestowed on every single soul she touched that changed lives. She was the closest thing to God I've ever experienced on this plane, and alot of what I have learned about giving came from her.

Her last request for me was that I sing at her memorial. As a little girl I spent hours singing for her. First, it was "The Sound of Music." Then it was "The Sound of Music" in Spanish. Then French. Of course, my four-year-old brain only knew English but that didn't stop me. I had, after all, a captive audience and a rather long rap-sheet of attention seeking behavior. But it never tired her. It seemed I could only bring her joy, and in doing so, she returned to me an invaluable gift. It would have been easier not to sing at the funeral. I barely made it through, as it was, and it's not like she was going to know if I didn't do it. But even beyond her last breath, she had one last lesson for me about love. Gifts are sometimes most beneficial to the giver.

With love,
Liz