Her Spirit and Ours (Cindy's Missive #4)

Cindy and I were very close to my cousin, Brian and his wife, Terry Jo (“TJ”).  When Cindy died, Brian and TJ adjusted their vacation plans to attend Cindy’s visitation, funeral and interment.  They texted the pictures above during their trip and I asked Brian to also offer some thoughts to accompany the pictures for another Cindy Missive.

By Brian Courtade (Glenn’s cousin)

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TJ and I have really enjoyed the times we spent with Glenn and Cindy over the years, whether it involved camping at Wheatland or skiing at Hoffmaster State Park, exploring the Grand Rapids Festival of the Arts, flying kites at Grand Haven or filming a home improvement mockumentary at Central Lake.  At our wedding, Cindy was Terry Jo’s Matron of Honor and Glenn , my Best Man. Our favorite memories, however, include those times we spent doing a whole lot of nothing: making omelets on a Sunday morning; spending a quiet New Year’s Eve together; kvetching about our respective “terrible, rotten parenting” practices; talking about recent vacations or future dreams of travel. More than once, Cindy told us of her love for the mountains of Colorado, particularly around Ouray.

When Cindy lost her battle with leukemia so unexpectedly, TJ and I already had made plans to leave our home near Grand Rapids on the morning of Saturday, April 13, to spend two weeks exploring the mountains and canyons of southern Utah and southwestern Colorado. We juggled our schedule a bit, took the dog to board at the vet’s a little early, and packed the van for our trip to Utah, but made arrangements to attend Cindy’s visitation and funeral service first, and begin our Utah trip directly from Farmington rather than Grandville, and only after Cindy’s interment service on Saturday.

At the interment, those in attendance were invited to take one of the many flowers at the gravesite as a remembrance, and TJ chose a red carnation. She stuck the flower’s stem into one of the air vents in our van, where it became a constant visual reminder of Cindy as we worked our way west through Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska and Colorado. We felt as though Cindy’s spirit was accompanying us on our journey. As we ascended a mountain pass along I-70 near Vail, CO, TJ and I were discussing how much we thought Cindy would enjoy seeing the mountains. We rounded a curve and the previously cloudy skies cleared enough for us to see not only the mountain before us, but in the distance beyond it a glimpse of the majestic snow-capped peaks of the Colorado Rockies. We knew we had to stop and take a picture, but also felt that Cindy was so much a part of that moment and that feeling, she also had to be a part of that picture.  We are pleased to also share that moment with Cindy’s Village.

Cindy’s presence continued to be felt as we explored the wonder of God’s creation throughout Utah and southwestern Colorado. On occasions too numerous to count, TJ or I – or both of us together – would be reminded of something Cindy had said or done, some anecdote from the times we shared, or how we had been blessed to have had her share our lives.

Cindy’s death at a time we thought she had been doing so well was devastating to both me and Terry Jo.  We were not prepared to lose her, we had so much we were hoping to share with her, we did not want her gone from our lives. Even at her funeral, I was not ready to say goodbye!  I wanted – I NEEDED – to hold on to whatever part of her I could latch onto with a tenaciousness that would prevent me from having to face the void that would be left if she were truly gone.

Traveling with that little, silent flower elicited so many thoughts and feelings about Cindy, so many happy memories and even bittersweet regrets. Did it wipe away all the tears, dispel all the grief?  No. But it did give me – and I hope TJ, too – a little time to adjust to the new reality of life without Cindy’s physical presence. And it helped diminish, if only just a bit, my fear of the void that would be left by Cindy’s death. That void was already being lessened by the memories and love she left behind. We did not have to maintain an iron grip on a flower from her funeral to keep her spirit in our hearts.  I think I can speak for both TJ and myself in saying that, while we are still not ready to say goodbye to Cindy and she will always be with us, we can at least let her go.

At the last National Park we would visit on this trip, we left her flower in a spot we felt Cindy would have loved – in a peaceful meadow next to the campgrounds of the Great Sand Dunes National Park, nestled in the shadow of the Colorado mountains she loved so much.