We've always joked that I have a memory like a steel trap. Though I wouldn't say it's a photographic memory, it's more like a camcorder. I can remember places and conversations and to a T and sometimes, that's a beautiful thing. Other times, like today, it's something I wouldn't mind giving up.
It started out like every other Sunday morning. I left my old apartment around 7:40 and drove to Gainesville for church. I flipped back and forth between the radio and iTunes trying to find something to listen to for that 71 mile stretch. My mom called at one point and I didn't answer (because I was driving) so she left a voicemail. When I got to the church parking lot I called her back and she asked where I was.
"...Church... It's Sunday morning..."
"No Erin, are you in the building?"
"No... I'm in the parking lot."
"I need you to get Mark (my minister) and call me back when you're inside. I need to talk to both of you."
"Mom, it's Sunday morning... he's teaching Sunday school and I'm about to go in and teach my class..."
"Erin, just call me back with Mark. I need to tell you something and he needs to be there."
We had a board meeting that night so Barney came to church with me. I went through the side door like I always do, grabbed my bulletin, put Barney in his 'Barney office' (his crate that's in my office), left my bulletin on my desk, walked through the gym, stood outside Mark's class and motioned that I needed him to come outside.
"My mom called me this morning and said she needs to talk to me but you need to be with me. At first I thought she may have had a question about my W-2, but now I think it's something serious."
We walked into Mark's office, I sat in my chair that I always sit in, and we called my mom back. I wish so badly that I couldn't remember that conversation word for word - but I do. I wish I couldn't remember the gut wrenching feeling I had when I realized something terrible had happened - but I do. I wish I hadn't heard the next sentence, but I did.
"Erin, Philip was in a motorcycle accident last night."
"...Is he okay...?"
"No."
Nothing else needed to said, I knew what the next part was. And I wailed. All I could say was, "NO! Marines don't die in motorcycle accidents!" Over and over and over I kept saying "no", praying this was all a nightmare.
Not many people knew that I was at church that day. When faced with the "What do you want to do" question, I knew I wouldn't be able to be a minister that day. That day, I needed to be ministered to. I needed to be IN church. I didn't robe up. I never took my bulletin back off my desk. I sat in the balcony and stared at my phone. I looked at every picture I had of Philip. I took a screenshot of every text message. I prayed for those three little dots to come up and for him to type something. My closest friend from church and her husband happened to be working all of the sound stuff (which is from the balcony) and when she came up there, she looked at me and knew something had happened. When I said, "I just found out my cousin was killed in a motorcycle accident" her immediate question was, "Please say it wasn't Philip." and all I could do was break down again. She sat and hugged me, neither of us knowing what to say or do.
As worship began, I was in a daze. I texted my cousins and my aunt & uncle and told them I loved them and I'd be home soon. When it came time for the prayer concerns and pastoral prayer, Mark told the congregation what had happened and I heard the gasps come from below, making it all too real again. Next came communion. I went down the stairs and took communion from the back and in that moment, I knew I needed the bread of life and the cup of hope more than ever before.After communion came the offering which is also when the choir sings. Normally I sing with the choir, obviously not that day though. The anthem that day could not have been any more perfect and I was actually really upset to not be singing it because it's one of my all time favorite songs.
All the night, all the day
I've got the angels, watchin' over me
They're gonna keep me safe
They're gonna guide my feet
They're gonna help me stay on the narrow way
All night, all day, angels watchin' over me my Lord,
All night, all day, I've got the angels watchin' over me.
As we stood for the doxology, I looked over at the choir with tears flooding down my face and mouthed, "Thank you." It felt like Phil was singing with them and they were reassuring me that he was sitting right with me.
It started out like every other Sunday morning. I left my old apartment around 7:40 and drove to Gainesville for church. I flipped back and forth between the radio and iTunes trying to find something to listen to for that 71 mile stretch. My mom called at one point and I didn't answer (because I was driving) so she left a voicemail. When I got to the church parking lot I called her back and she asked where I was.
"...Church... It's Sunday morning..."
"No Erin, are you in the building?"
"No... I'm in the parking lot."
"I need you to get Mark (my minister) and call me back when you're inside. I need to talk to both of you."
"Mom, it's Sunday morning... he's teaching Sunday school and I'm about to go in and teach my class..."
"Erin, just call me back with Mark. I need to tell you something and he needs to be there."
We had a board meeting that night so Barney came to church with me. I went through the side door like I always do, grabbed my bulletin, put Barney in his 'Barney office' (his crate that's in my office), left my bulletin on my desk, walked through the gym, stood outside Mark's class and motioned that I needed him to come outside.
"My mom called me this morning and said she needs to talk to me but you need to be with me. At first I thought she may have had a question about my W-2, but now I think it's something serious."
We walked into Mark's office, I sat in my chair that I always sit in, and we called my mom back. I wish so badly that I couldn't remember that conversation word for word - but I do. I wish I couldn't remember the gut wrenching feeling I had when I realized something terrible had happened - but I do. I wish I hadn't heard the next sentence, but I did.
"Erin, Philip was in a motorcycle accident last night."
"...Is he okay...?"
"No."
Nothing else needed to said, I knew what the next part was. And I wailed. All I could say was, "NO! Marines don't die in motorcycle accidents!" Over and over and over I kept saying "no", praying this was all a nightmare.
Not many people knew that I was at church that day. When faced with the "What do you want to do" question, I knew I wouldn't be able to be a minister that day. That day, I needed to be ministered to. I needed to be IN church. I didn't robe up. I never took my bulletin back off my desk. I sat in the balcony and stared at my phone. I looked at every picture I had of Philip. I took a screenshot of every text message. I prayed for those three little dots to come up and for him to type something. My closest friend from church and her husband happened to be working all of the sound stuff (which is from the balcony) and when she came up there, she looked at me and knew something had happened. When I said, "I just found out my cousin was killed in a motorcycle accident" her immediate question was, "Please say it wasn't Philip." and all I could do was break down again. She sat and hugged me, neither of us knowing what to say or do.
As worship began, I was in a daze. I texted my cousins and my aunt & uncle and told them I loved them and I'd be home soon. When it came time for the prayer concerns and pastoral prayer, Mark told the congregation what had happened and I heard the gasps come from below, making it all too real again. Next came communion. I went down the stairs and took communion from the back and in that moment, I knew I needed the bread of life and the cup of hope more than ever before.After communion came the offering which is also when the choir sings. Normally I sing with the choir, obviously not that day though. The anthem that day could not have been any more perfect and I was actually really upset to not be singing it because it's one of my all time favorite songs.
All the night, all the day
I've got the angels, watchin' over me
They're gonna keep me safe
They're gonna guide my feet
They're gonna help me stay on the narrow way
All night, all day, angels watchin' over me my Lord,
All night, all day, I've got the angels watchin' over me.
As we stood for the doxology, I looked over at the choir with tears flooding down my face and mouthed, "Thank you." It felt like Phil was singing with them and they were reassuring me that he was sitting right with me.
As I listened to the sermon and as I tried to wrap my head around what was happening, I felt lost. I felt like part of me was missing and like I would never be complete again. I thought about all that next few days would entail - missing a week of my internship, missing a week of grad classes, getting everything covered for church - I had to think of it that way because dealing with the emotional side was too much to bear and if I focused on the logistical side, I could temporarily distract myself from the heartache.
I'm sure over the next few days, many more memories like this one will surface, but for now, I'm stuck with the memory of being heart broken. And as much as I would like to end this on a hopeful note, it's important to recognize this very real effect of grief that wears on one's soul. I have seen great strides of hope throughout this year and I have wonderful stories of the way Phil has continued to have my back - those will come in time - yet even so, grief remains, my heart still breaks, and I long for the days when he was just a mile and half down the road from me. I love you baby cous, see you over the rainbow.
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