My Weary Heart

As I sit here, writing these words, with a glass of half red/half white wine to soothe my frayed ends (I’m trying to like red by itself for its health benefits, but it’s hard, yo.), I want to try and do my friend justice, as I prepare to say goodbye.

Sue Weaver. Sue. Mrs. Weaver. 

See that look on her face? Those arched eyebrows telegraphing an Oh, my…she said what?! That unsure smile hoping I wouldn’t say it again. I’ve seen that face too many times to count. I cuss and talk of unladylike thangs around Sue waaaay too much and she loves me anyways.

Thank you, Jesus, she loves me anyways.

When I say her name, a smile fills me, the kind of smile that hurts from the sheer stretching of muscles. The kind of smile that starts from my insides and pushes out to my entire body, so you can bear witness to my love of Sue. That same smile happens to anyone in her presence.

(Sue’s eldest son Mike, me, framily-in-law Janet, SUE!, framily-in-law Mikey, Sue’s DIL-married to the fellow on the far left- framily-in-law, Polly)

As these words leave my keyboard, Sue is lying in hospice care, passing from this realm to the next. She’s going home and those who love her are heartbroken. I am heartbroken.

To date, as of this writing, the vigil for one of the dearest souls I have been blessed to know has added another day, for a total of seven. Sue is one of the most spiritual people I have ever known, her love of God is legendary, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she slips away today. Seven has significant meaning for Christians and throughout the Bible; it is aligned with perfection and rest. If she goes before the end of today, I will have a joyous laugh and send her a virtual high-five. YES!

Go home, Sue!

This woman is a testament to love. Sue Weaver, regardless of her faults, regardless of her failings, loves better than any one I have known. She gives this abundant love to those in need, most especially those needing a love they can’t find anywhere else. She does it without question or qualifying. She is a powerhouse of pure love. The stories of how she selflessly gave throughout her life are endless, and I have often marveled at God’s love for me in the one act of allowing me to love her back.

Garry and I have a running joke about how I take what’s his and make it mine, Sue included. To my great joy, Garry brought Sue into my life and I was changed for the good because of it. Her extension of love didn’t stop with me though. She loved Garry first, then me, then Boy, then Girl, then Sweet E, each with a passion that left us feeling she loved us best, but the truth is everyone who is loved by Sue experiences this: I’m her favorite! Suck it! (Oh, Patti!) Today, even though she is leaving us, this ripple-effect of affection will be part of her legacy of love.

Sue is my surrogate mother, a friend I can tell my secrets to, my champion when life has a choke hold on me, a prayer warrior instructor, a taste-tester of all things from my kitchen, a fudge hoarder, a gingerbread man maker, but mostly, Sue is a source of love, even when I screw things up. Her mercy, her forgiveness, her very being is salve for my brokenness.

There are days I feel small in Sue’s shadow. Her goodness is inspiring and in contrast, mine is not. I am ever striving to be more like Sue, to walk in faith and love of all, even though most days I’m the gritty West Texas girl with a naughty mouth and the want to throat punch people when they’re asswipes. (I can see her laughing and that look on her face at this confession!) I never begrudge her goodness, because I know there is no perfection in any of us, but baby, Sue is as close as I’ve witnessed.

Outside of my marriage, Sue is my true North. She knows how much I count on her wisdom, her guidance, her prayers, her laugh, her questioning arched eyebrows and Oh, Patti! smile, her everything.

I have been blessed beyond what I deserve with people who love me deeply in this life and Sue is at the top of that list. As she passes, as she leaves us stranded without her, I don’t know what I’m going to do.

I thought this when Mark passed and here I am.

I thought this when Aunt Mimi passed and here I am.

I am now the matriarch of my life. All others have hopped a cloud and gone on to Jesus.

Don’t they know I’m still a work in progress and still fail and still neeeeeeed them?

Apparently not. How rude!

My dearest Sue, I’m forever in your debt, as countless others are, and my prayer is that God may greet you with a beaming smile and a love fit for his good and faithful servant.

I love you, momma.

God speed.

EDIT: A few hours after I wrote this piece, in 2016, Sue passed into the arms of her beloved Father. On the seventh day of her vigil. It is comforting and right.

~high-five~