In Loving Memory

Taneisha Smalls was our next door neighbor back in SC. She drowned on Mother's Day.

I am trying to sort out my emotions on this one. I am usually pretty cynical over death. Normally, I'm not a griever, especially if I'm not related to the person. When I hear news of someone dying, my attitude is usually, "Oh, okay." Heartless, right?

But for some reason, I am soooo sad over Taneisha. In a way, my feelings don't make sense to me. We were just typical neighbors--you know, saying hello when you pass, but not hanging out in a more personal way. We didn't have a huge connection. We were acquaintances more than anything--Typical neighborhood friends. However, Taneisha was the sweetest little girl. She was so polite. She was always friendly and included Kela in playing outside. She would let Kela come in her garage and take her motorized motorcycle. She would push her around and give her so much attention. Taneisha had a genuine heart and a beautiful smile. She was like a little golden child.

Why does this accident hurt me? Maybe because in my head I keep visualizing her sister panicking, not being able to rescue her because she couldn't swim herself--visualizing the emotion that she could have been experiencing by watching her loved one die, traumatized I'm sure. Maybe because I can't get the image out of my head of a mother, who also did not know how to swim, screaming in panic mode, rushing to a house to find help, finding it too late, and having to watch her child struggle through the death process. It's one thing hearing news of death. But to watch death? It rips my heart out.

Maybe I can, in a very minute way, relate to this helpless feeling. I've watched Kela gasp for air, turn blue, see fear all in her face ,and watch her fight for life. (She just had another episode this past Easter.) You just feel helpless! You just watch with no means to do anything. How could Taneisha's mother stand it?

Then I think of the strength of our Heavenly Father. I imagine our Father watching his beloved Son die on the cross. It was painful for God, I know. It is said that he had to go to the far reaches of the universe. It amazes me that he had the disposition and strength to willingly allow his Son to go through this. What mother would not rush into a burning building to get their child? What mother would not jump in front of a bullet if it were heading for her baby? Parents try to rescue children, at all costs. But, Heavenly Father did not rescue his Son. He willingly let him die. He probably turned his head, crying, sobbing, ripped with emotion, pained by the thought. What strength! What resolve! What love! Yes, love for all of us. Yes, love to rescue every last one of us. Yes, true sacrifice.

I know that Kela will die before me. Maybe I'm looking at this as a sense of my future.

This I do know: God lives. Families are eternal. God's wisdom is greater than our own. He loves us, along with concourses of others in heaven. They all root for us. They all cheer us on. We are family. That's what families do. I am grateful for a brother, my Savior, who willingly died on my behalf. He was like the mother who rushed in front of the bullet to protect her baby. He paid the price for me. He rushed out, sacrificed, and protected my well being. For this I am grateful. Oh, how I love him.

I plan to walk a little taller, live a little straighter, and love my children a little more. What are you gonna do?