Bea Arthur

March 16, 2007: the day after my stepmom died. My sister, brother, stepbrother, and I met at my dad's house. Very few words were exchanged between the five of us. No one really wanted to talk. Instead, we uncomfortably watched as the hospice nurses packed up their things and left. We tried to ignore the empty bed in the room where Sarah spent her last days. My aunt Ann stopped by with sweets, which we reluctantly munched on until it was time to go to the funeral home to make arrangements.

My dad and I stood in his kitchen, waiting for my sister, brother, and stepbrother to get ready. After what seemed like hours of silence, my dad pulled out a book of poems that Sarah had kept with her when she was sick. Without saying a word, he showed me her bookmark wedged in the book. He opened it to the bookmarked page, and we both saw a poem titled "Safely Home".

Safely Home

I am home in heaven, dear ones;
Oh so happy and so bright!
There is perfect joy and beauty
In this everlasting light.

The pain and grief is over,
Every restless tossing passed,
I am now at peace forever,
Safely home in heaven at last.

Did you wonder how I so calmly
Trod the valley of the shade?
Oh, but Jesus' love illumined
Every dark and fearful glade.

And he came himself to meet me
In that way so hard to tread,
And with Jesus' arm to lean on,
Could I have one doubt or dread?

Then you must not grieve so sorely,
For I love you dearly still;
Try to look beyond earth's shadows,
Pray to trust our Father's will.

There is work still waiting for you,
So you must not idly stand,
Do it now, while life remains,
You shall rest in Jesus' land.

When that work is all completed,
He will gently call you home,
Oh, the rapture of that meeting,
Oh, the joy to see you come!

This was Sarah's last message to us. My dad cut the poem out and put it up on our refrigerator. It's been more than two years, and it's still up there.

Sarah once told me and Carlina what she thought her purpose in life was. Once she had achieved it (or "completed her work", per the poem) she fell ill and passed away. Funny how life works.