Suddenly

It takes only an eight letter word to signify the rapid decline of a situation. We saw her just a month ago, on our return visit, and she seemed the picture of health. I didn't think for a moment that it would be the last time I would see her. 

Perhaps that's why yesterday's news came as such a shock, even though we heard, just over a week before, that she had received an unexpected diagnosis, the severity of which had not been established at the time. 

No further news came to us until yesterday. I was halfway through writing her a letter, one that I was confident there would be time to finish later, and maybe others still. That letter will never be sent now.  

The geographical distance makes it hard to take in her absence. Her face, with its radiant smile, surrounded by a wave of frizzy grey hair, comes to mind so easily, an image that I fear will be more difficult to summon with the passage of time. 

We only knew her for five years, but we saw her at least once a week in that period. Being part of a small church congregation was like having an extended family, and she was like a favourite aunt. She came to mean a lot to us.

As worship leaders, we would sometimes arrange services together. I remember fondly the autumn afternoons spent in her kitchen, helping to clean up bric-a-brac for the church bazaar. And several of us joining together in her sitting room for afternoon fellowship.

The last time I saw her, she was standing in the doorway with her husband, waving us off after our visit. That was only a month ago. 

And suddenly, she went away from us. 

I take comfort in my faith that I will see her again. But that doesn't lessen the sense of loss I feel now.