Cindy my Wife (by Glenn Trevisan)

This eulogy by me (Glenn Trevisan( is the seventh of seven messages offered at Cindy's funeral on April 12. I met Cindy in the fall of 1976, started dating her in the fall of 1977, married her in February 1979 and was with her when she passed from this life on April 8.  I love her massively and miss her enormously.

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[BROKEN TOGETHER]

Wow!  Today and yesterday have been everything we hoped it would be.  Thank you everyone for your role in helping us to honor our amazing Cindy.  Of course, I’ve always been enthralled by her but you all opened me to multiple dimensions of her amazingness.

Our charge to the eulogists was to honor Cindy and honor God. Each of you nailed it - well done!. 

I say Cindy is honored because, CINDY - IS - NOT - DEAD.  Rather, she is more alive than ever before, which, of course, is the whole point of this celebration and of her life and mine and all of yours.

[“GLENNs” STRICKEN]

Now, a couple matters of business. ONE.  Thank you for all the rave reviews for my Cindy obituary. Confession - Yes, I penned the original draft but than sent it with a red pen to the group of ladies in my living room who created all the beautiful photo boards for our visitation yesterday.  When the draft returned to me, it looked as if the poor little red pen had lost its life, having bled to death all over my draft.

Notably, the most stricken word was Glenn. Like Cindy and Glenn, Cindy with Glenn, Glenn and Cindy….

The only words added where these, “We assume you were there or near.”

(TWO) Now that is indeed true.  Every chance I got, I was there or near to this amazing woman, Cindy. That never changed, never got old or stale for me.  After 40 years of marriage, coming home to her was still the high point of my day. I’m going to miss that.

Interestingly, the obit’s removal of multiple “Glenns” parallels my relationship with Cindy which also lacked some Glenn initiative to get underway.  Had Cindy not stepped in, we would have had a colossal failure to launch on our hands.

When  I met Cindy in 1976 at Central Michigan University, she was dating someone else - my dorm roommate. After picking her up for their first date, he returned with her to our room to grab something he forgot.  As he was looking for whatever, Cindy and I talked for a few moments.  Then off they went.  I was immediately drawn to her but alas, I was also dating someone else.

That was only the first of two dates Cindy had with my roommate.  My other relationship ended a year later and so I when I ran into Cindy on campus in the fall of 1977, I boldly asked for her phone number. Take note – boldly. When she readily gave it, I immediately lost my nerve and never called her back.

Fortunately for me and all of us here, she got tired of waiting and sought me out. And rest, as they say, is history.

SO, before our relationship ever got started, it was very nearly broken. And brokenness has defined us ever since.  We were not the perfect couple.  This week, as I began to deal with the loss of Cindy, I played and replayed a song by the band, Casting Crowns that Cindy loved, called “Broken Together.”

In the song, a husband addresses his wife - How their lives fell short of the fairy tale they once imagined when “she wore the veil, (and) walked the aisle….(when) you took my hand and we dove into a mystery.”

Turns out the mystery was complicated, with scars and secrets and battle lines and broken promises and wondering at times if they would make it through the night.  And here, on the occasion of this song, another crisis looms.

“It’s going to take much more than promises this time. Only God can change our minds.”

Cindy loved the chorus most.

Maybe you and I were never meant to be complete. Could we just be broken together? 
If you can bring your shattered dreams and I’ll bring mine,
could healing still be spoken and save us? 
The only way we’ll last forever is broken together.

And so we were - broken together.  What others have said about our relationship, as beautiful and loving and “peas in a pod” actually involved a fair amount messyness. At Grace Chapel, we call a story like this “The upside down Gospel.”  When its really working well, presume lots of messyness underneath.

Before you all take objection to my casting our marriage this way, keep in mind, this was CINDY’s favorite song. 

If you get a chance, listen carefully to it, guys in particular.  The woman, (in this case Cindy,) wants to be broken together with her man.  (That would be me.) While not very romantic on the surface, this is a brokenness that will last forever.

Cindy and I marked our 40th anniversary in room 8479 at Beaumont Hospital as she was undergoing her first round of treatment for leukemia.  As we celebrated the 40th year of our brokenness together, I was very moved by how beautiful she looked that night.  If I’m such a mess of a husband, how come she looks so happy and beautiful right in the middle of this most perilous threat to her life and our love?  How can her faith in our Lord Jesus be stronger and more vibrant than ever?

This came to me. When your beloved independently glows in a way that honors God and the two of you as a couple, a whole lot of right is going on despite your view of it.

[BASKING IN HER GLOW]

Last night and today, we are basking in the glow of Cindy, sourced by her Lord.  I loved basking in her glow.  She glowed the most when she was doing something she loved with people she loved.  All my best pictures of her are cropped from pictures of her with others.  I was often the picture-taker, rarely in the picture (“the Glenn removed but near”) in order to bask in her glow.

My worst moments since she passed on Monday came late in the night,  after the day finally quieted down and I am alone with my thoughts and the Lord - crying out to Him, grieving. Her death was harrowing and hard. She battled. I felt so helpless. Was she anxious and fearful?

Is there something more, Lord I could have done?  In answer, “No, Glenn. In your brokenness, you did the best thing by and for her.  You faithfully guided her home to me.”

Then, these thoughts...

1.      Cindy, who was my bride in life, is now Jesus’ bride in death. And how about this twist on an affirmation generally said about the deceased at funerals but that the Lord attributed to me?

2.      “Well done, good and faithful servant.  Well done for guiding Cindy home.”

But I didn’t do that alone.  I had help guiding Cindy to the Lord, lots of help from you all here, our people, the body of Christ, the Church.

For prayer, for the calls, the gift cards, cash and visits.  Thank you Deb for going to Cindy that Sunday when I could not.  Thank you Jan for being on call and graciously available for many panic moments, especially Sunday and Monday.  Thank you Karol and Barb for coordinating the Grace machine - the meals, the prayer blanket, the anniversary cards, the reception up next. Thank you Adam, Laura and Michael for holding me up every time I teetered.  Thank you Cindy’s Girlfriends. Thank you Hillside Elementary and FPS HR for being nothing short of awesome every step of the way. Thank you Francie for sharing the soups you’ve made.   Thank you Rob, Drew and Stephanie for that visit at the hospital with Cindy and I.  And I’ve barely scratched the surface….

You held up your end, that pledge you made at our wedding.  You were there for us every step of the way, all the way to this very bittersweet end.  Well done, well done, good and faithful servants.

[CONTORTED  SUFFERING]

As I said, her last hours were as difficult. Her face had lost its glow.  We were making tough decisions and alarming calls, trying to get people to Cindy.  Her mom arrived just moments before she passed but not Adam and Laura. Having to tell them their dear mom passed was so, so difficult. 

The trauma etched on Cindy’s face when she passed clung to me this week. Her suffering troubled me deeply. I believe it was Tuesday night when I lay in my bed looking up into the dark with tears streaming down both sides of my face as I pictured Cindy’s contorted face.

Jesus spoke to me, “Like my face when I died for Cindy and you.  My face was also contorted and my body was wracked and hacked and beaten.  In Cindy’s suffering, she joined me in my suffering and, Glenn, your grief does the same. Because the way to life eternal with me is through the valley of suffering.”

Such peace came over me at that moment.  When we suffer, we honor the Lord’s suffering for us. Furthermore, the Lord is near when we suffer as said in Psalm 18 that my sister Jan shared with me this morning:

“In my distress I called upon the Lord, and he heard my voice.” (Psalm 18:6)

Karen mentioned a conversation Cindy and she and I had in Cindy’s hospital room when Karen’s daughter Rachel was also at Beaumont, a conversation about suffering.  My encounter with the Lord that night hearkened to that conversation...

●        We suffer when we take up our cross each day and struggle to do the right thing; 

●        We suffer when we trust in Lord when nothing is going right;

●        We suffer when we cling to the assurance he makes to us in his word in the midst of the worst pain imaginable like Cindy did,

●        And yes, we suffer when we grieve,

I visualized the Lord receiving Cindy in the very throws of her suffering - perhaps as her body was still flailing, her spirit was already at peace and crossing over to be with him in Heaven. 

Our sister in law, Suzann lost her beloved husband and our brother, Roger in 2014 from Hodgkin's-Lymphoma.  Among the communiques flying around complimenting Cindy’s obit (that you all now know the rest of the story about), Suzann remarked:  “Lovely tribute.  Still can’t believe we are in this place.”

Indeed, none of us can believe we are in this place, suffering the loss of another dear one - a mother, a daughter, an aunt, a colleague, a teacher, a mother-in-law, a friend, a neighbor, a sister, a sister-in-law, a wife. 

Yet even as we are indeed in this place of suffering, we are all here together.  I am honored that you have chosen to share in this suffering with us.

Now we have to go, to somehow carry on in a world that Cindy is absent from but that the God she devoted her life to believing in and following is still very present; A place where God is able to transform all our tears into laughter.

Thank you, each and all!