Bitter & Sweet; A Family’s Journey With Cancer
Chapter Seventeen: The Funeral Service
Sunday, October 17 The Funeral Service
There were many details to put together, but Tim and I had kept a list of the favorite verses and readings we had come across, knowing we could use them at his service. I didn’t go to the regular worship service in the morning, but got dressed and ready to go to his afternoon funeral service in my new duds.
I had a strange feeling like I was getting ready for a date or something and actually felt kind of proud of how I looked. I arrived at the church and was ushered with my family to a waiting room to avoid the crowds. We were sitting around and chatting and I thought it bizarre how calm I actually was.
Then my body took over. The next thing I knew, I was in the exact position I was in five months earlier sitting in the surgeon’s office. I knew I was passing out and was utterly out of control to do anything to stop it.
It was the same odd thing, that I could hear the people around me talking but their voices were so, so distant. I couldn’t speak. I knew they were getting cold cloths and I somehow had a vague sensation of the cool on my face.
They were all trying to figure out where my anti-anxiety medicine was and if they could call someone to bring it to the church.
In general, I have a better than average skill at knowing myself. This was one of the moments where I was completely and utterly clueless as to where I truly was.
I thought I strangely had it together but my soul knew better.
I literally just had to check out for a few moments. Thankfully it passed relatively quickly so the service didn’t have to be delayed much. It was an amazing service so I’m going to relate it to you piece by piece because it was beautiful and worth sharing.
To start with, Tim’s former colleague and friend Chris sang a song and played guitar. Chris was in a band for a long time and Tim used to go often and hear him play. When the benefit came along, Chris got his band to play, which was of course very meaningful for us.
They were delightful. He selected this piece as prelude music: “May the rain fall soft upon your face until we meet again. May God hold you in the palm of His hand.”
After that, two of my girlfriends sang a song. Julie is in my band and women’s quintet in our church. Tim thought she was adorable, like a Barbie doll he would say, with a sweet voice. Truth be told, Frankie had a crush on her for a while too.
Michelle was in the band at the church we were married in so we were old-time friends and musicians together. The band sang at our wedding, and one of the pieces they performed was what I asked them to sing at Tim’s funeral when we walked the casket down the aisle.
We loved the words then and they were just as perfect at a funeral as they were at a wedding! It was written by Hans Peterson. I found out his father passed away in his 50’s from cancer and was the inspiration for the lyrics.
“Everything is grace, as we see in others God’s loving face. Grateful people embrace even the pains in life, with God they turn and face.
Every moment we live by faith, every breath that we breathe is grace. Everything that we live is grace.
Can we live with sorrow and with joy? With conflict and also peace? Must a shade be only dark or light for us to keep our sanity?
Could it be that night and day and dancing and mourning are all a part of the same movement?
In the darkness, there will be light. From its despair, you will find hope. In your weakest moment, there’ll be strength.
And out of death, new life is born.
When you see the face of pain, find a home. Trust the promise you already know.”
I had remembered the part about grace, but I had forgotten the verses and couldn’t believe how perfect they were — the message of bitter and sweet that had become our mantra was in every verse of this song.
Our minister then welcomed everyone. “Good afternoon. My name is Reverend Miller and I am the pastor of this church, and along with my colleague Reverend Taylor and the staff of the church, I welcome you to this celebration of the life and witness of Tim Colvin.
I know I speak for Darcy and on behalf of her family in thanking you for being here to celebrate Tim’s life and for the hundreds of people that have gathered around them in the past months, have upheld them, and strengthened them on this journey that they have been on.
What a fitting and appropriate song that every breath that we breathe is grace. I would ask us to take a moment and be aware of that grace in our own lives. Take a moment and draw in a breath.
Experience that as God’s presence and know that surely God is here with us now. Let’s take a moment of silence… Amen.
For those of you that know Darcy, it shouldn’t come as any surprise that this service is a reflection of not only Darcy, but Darcy and Tim, of people that have been special in their lives, of scriptures, and hymns, and words.
So let us in this hour, let this service speak to us, and in some ways, speak for Tim as we gather to worship God.”
Next, Tim’s brother Roger did a reading, an invitation to worship. It came from the Roswell hospital prayer book.
“In whatever state of mind you are, sing God’s praises and set forth the greatness of the Creator. Whatever your feelings, reflect upon the Creator for everything. I offer myself in a hymn of praise that brings peace everlasting.
Day after day, He extends His care to everything He created. He will continue to do so forever. He who provides all. No one can measure the gifts of God. Who can appreciate the giver of them all?”
(As Tim and I devoured books together, we marked anything special we came across that we might want to use in the future for something like this. So when someone expressed an interest in speaking at the service, they were able to choose the one that most spoke to them.)
Our dear friend Sean read the Old Testament lesson. “A reading from Isaiah. Hast thou not known? Hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary?
There is no searching of his understanding. He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall.
But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”
The hymn that Tim chose surprised me, but when I heard it, I knew it was perfect. We had guitar rather than organ. “Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee. Even though it be a cross, that raiseth me. Still, all my song shall be — nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee.
Or if on joyful wing, cleaving the sky Sun, moon and stars forgot, upward I fly Still all my song shall be — nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee.”
Next, one of Tim’s childhood friends gave a brief reflection. He was someone I had never met until Tim got sick. When he heard the news, he and Tim re-connected. He brought over an Othello game they used to play regularly.
It was amazing. They had written dates on the box when they played, and if I remember correctly, who won those games. He came over several times to see Tim with the goal of filling up that box. They were able to add several game dates to that box.
My sister Renee then did the New Testament reading. “A reading from the book of Romans. For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God.
For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father.
The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God: And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together.
For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God.
For the creature was made subject to vanity, not willingly, but by reason of him who hath subjected the same in hope, Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.
For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.
And not only they, but ourselves also, which have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body.” (Yes, our bodies certainly need redeeming. No more cancer in heaven I presume.)
Chris sang another song at this point. “Hear O Lord, the sound of my call. Hear O Lord and have mercy. My soul is longing for the glory of You. So hear O Lord, and answer me.”
Our sister-in-law Sally then read another reading from Romans. “Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.
And He that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit, because He maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.”
We selected this passage for so many reasons. Even though I am a graduate of Moody Bible Institute, I find that the older I get, the less sophisticated my prayers get. We did not know how to pray so many, many times.
So it just became “Help us,” several times a day, every day. And sometimes there weren’t even those words. I would just cry and know God heard me.
Secondly, in Tim’s last hours, he would let these groans and sighs out that seemed to be out of the blue. They were long and not like anything I had ever heard from anyone before. They did not sound full of pain, but I couldn’t quite describe what it touched in me.
Lastly, I have heard that “All things work together for good” during most of my religious life. I had understood it to mean that God had a plan for our lives that we had to trust and accept, knowing it would all be “good” in the end.
That theology has changed over the years for me. I now believe that with our free will, God kind of “co-creates” our lives with us as we make the choices we do.
I don’t think God “planned” for Tim to have cancer because it was for our own good. But I do understand that there is “good” in everything, even the darkest of things.
There is a sweetness to savor in even the most bitter medicines.
Next, our Hospice chaplain spoke. We had requested she be on our care team because she attended our church and was a familiar face. She was so dear to our hearts as she watched our journey unfold. She spoke to us often about the transformation our marriage was experiencing, so I asked her to speak.
“My name is Nina and I’m a chaplain at Hospice and was called to be on the in-home care team that provided compassionate care to Tim, to Darcy, and to the family.
In her poem entitled ‘When Death Comes,’ Mary Oliver concludes that when she dies, she wants to be able to say ‘I have not just visited the earth.’
As chaplain at Hospice, I witness patients and families pressed, and pressed down hard to consider whether they have merely been visitors to their life, whatever the length of their days. Or have they been pilgrims in life?
Not all patients pursue this question. Few do it willingly. But when dying and death comes, as it does for all of us, some will dare to walk the stony path, the twilight road, to plumb not just the meaning of their life, nor wonder about the future.
Some choose to be fully awake in and to the present moment, the present breath, the present light, the present touch, the present hope. “What I heard, and what I saw when visiting Tim and Darcy in their home, was the courage to grab that taut, plumb line, placed before them by a cruel disease and a more cruel prognosis.
They dared assess the boundaries and current limits of their marriage, shaped as it was by habit and accommodation of their life together. And then adjusting to new demands that terminal illness always brings.
I witnessed them establishing and living into new patterns of communication, that were unimaginable a year ago. Recommitting their days, each moment if necessary, becoming awake to their individual lives and their life together.
They discovered a depth of abundance which surprised them. And for those of us that had the honor of being close to them, surprised even us. Yes, hearts were breaking. I heard them shatter, more than once, knowing as they did, there would be no 60th wedding anniversary celebration.
Yet I also heard something else — the breath of transformation, giving them life, birthing them, creating them into something new. I saw tears rain down their cheeks as they negotiated the painful path, the push-pull of life, together as Tim wrestled with how he would live his dying.
How Darcy expressed her needs and hope in all this. I saw them touch and talk and cry and hold each other in such intimate ways, that I will forever be changed by it.
And live into that hope of what is possible in marriage, in commitment to one another. Those of us gathered here today are not just mere people who believe in change, resolutions, rather we are people of transformation. We follow the One who has been, and is being now transformed into a new life, into a new community, that even death will not defeat.
We are people of transformation. We believe it. We live it. We are it.
Transformation is hard, hard, hard work. Change is easy, transformation takes our whole life. It takes our mind. It takes our heart. It takes our spirit. It even takes our body.
That’s what we come here today to remember and celebrate, that we are people of transformation.
And I saw in my brief moments with Darcy and Tim and the family, a breath of transformation. A breath that this world needs so much, that marriages need and crave so much.
So I am here to tell you, my dear friends, that Darcy and Tim did not merely visit their marriage. Rather, they sojourned in it with courage and humility, and vulnerability. And something new has come.
So I say to you, Darcy, and to my friend Tim — Well done! Well done, good and faithful servants, Amen.”
Next my dear, dear friend Summer spoke. Words cannot describe how invaluable she was every step of the way, but especially in pulling everything together for the funeral and luncheon.
“Life has beginnings and endings and then there is that in-between time called ‘living.’ Some people fit a lot of living in a shorter space of time than others. From May 7th until October 14th, Tim Colvin lived a lot of his life and with a different purpose in mind than before. For the next 160 days, he began a journey of living strong.
In Tim’s first CaringBridge journal entry of June 9th, he professes to be an independent, does everything himself, Mr. Workaholic. And for those of you who knew him best; that apparently may have been an understatement!
He wrote at that time that he fully intended to fight for his life, scratching, clawing, and kicking. I would say that initially, that seemed to be the case; however, that kind of living takes more energy than is reasonably sustainable and so that is where the transformation of Tim began to take shape.
The do-it-yourselfer guy became the one that other people did things for and that requires a humbling of spirit in order for that to happen gracefully. While Tim concentrated on learning how to live with cancer, the rest of the family learned how to shoulder responsibilities so Tim could concentrate on his health.
Prior to Tim’s diagnosis, they decided to refurbish the pool and backyard. The decision to forge ahead with those plans became the first of many things that were placed on Tim’s “Bucket List.” He wanted to be able to enjoy the pool as he had in the past with his family but more importantly, for his family to be able to enjoy it when he was gone and remember all the happy times together.
Finishing the yard became a labor of love that Tim could only watch as family, friends, and church family completed it for him. In another CaringBridge journal entry Tim wrote, ‘Just when I think that Darcy doesn’t have any more in the tank to give, she seems to have an uncanny persistence of heart and mind to make the impossible into possible. I love you, honey.’
Remember that this was not a personal love note to his wife for just her to read… he put that out there for everyone on CaringBridge to see. Not just a romantic gesture but a genuine and articulate appreciation for Darcy for all of us to witness.
Normally a very private man, Tim’s battle with cancer now became public, which also garnered a showing of support and hope for him and his family that sets huge precedence.
In case you don’t already know this about Tim and Darcy, I’ll let you in on the worst kept secret ever — they are both huge planners and organizers. From the basement to the yard, everything has a place and by golly, it better be in it!
Only those of us who some would call overachievers or Type A personalities will understand the idea that there is a lot of saving grace in planning for the worst and hoping for the best.
A well-ordered life was quickly turned into chaos and so Tim and Darcy did what they did best… they made a companion to the “Bucket List” — a “Honey Do List”; and in this case, it was a tandem effort.
The living in-between time became filled with concrete tasks so that Tim could leave his family a legacy of his love that would transcend time and space.
Father’s Day 2010 was an event that Darcy planned with great care in order to surprise and surround Tim with his four children and grandchild; their happy faces were broadcast to all of us on the CaringBridge.
That picture did speak a thousand words; words of togetherness and happiness and living into the moment at hand.
At the beginning of August, Tim experienced a downward spiral and it became clear that the cancer was taking greater hold of his body. Tim’s choice was to continue with chemotherapy or accept that his time living in-between was going to have greater quality if he were to move to comfort care.
During a church meeting where the leaders share their joys and concerns, an elder asked the question, ‘So how is Tim doing with this?’… this being the knowledge that his time with us was going to be in shorter supply than when he was first diagnosed.
It was easier to answer the question because of the gradual transformation that had unfolded over the summer. Tim had written in an earlier journal entry that he was prideful and stoic and yet throughout the summer there was visible evidence of a man changed by his timeline.
He had become humble enough to let people he didn’t even know help him; he allowed his sons the opportunity to be the “men of the house” and became openly affectionate towards Frankie. He and Darcy became closer than ever during their ten years of marriage.
Tim’s faith in God grew stronger as his sharper edges began to soften.
And then, of course, there was the steroid phase… or shall we call it the “Super Coop” phase when Tim could be found mowing the lawn, vacuuming the pool, walking Taffy, and watching sports with Frankie — all at the same time — no, I am so not kidding!
The steroids bought him more quality time for when Emily and Parker visited in late summer. Steroids gave him the energy to put Frankie on the bus for the first day of school.
He and Darcy began to plan for this very day (the funeral) and talk about his wishes for when he was gone from her. It was a poignant and tender time when only a strong and abiding trust in life everlasting carried them through.
The workaholic Tim continued to work, only this time for different reasons. He was going to work as long as he could in order to continue to provide for his family. But the cost to his health did not matter to him as much as the knowledge that his untimely death could not be a further financial burden.
Those of us present on September 19th in this space (the church) will remember that Darcy preached about church family and God’s parental love for us all. We prayed for Tim with certainty and hope that going home to be with God was a wondrous gift for all of humankind.
The date of the benefit was changed from what was ironically yesterday’s date to a time just before Tim’s health began to decline again. Everyone present likely can still remember and marvel at the spirit of laughter and joy that was tinged with sadness at the fire hall that night.
Last weekend when Tim was admitted to Hospice it truly became a plan for living — living into the last of his time in-between. He lived all week as a man of strength and surprises. At times he even seemed to mimic Lazarus.
There was time enough for those who did not have the luxury of time with Tim prior to his illness. There was space for family and friends to bid farewell.
One of Tim’s last suppers was communion and he managed to shift the mood in the room by asking for a “chaser.”
It was life in full circle for Colin and Matthew (Tim’s sons) to be the ones to tuck Dad in. There was time for one last phone call to daughter Emily, who carries Tim’s second grandchild which continues the circle of life.
It was a sweet moment of kisses all over Frankie’s face from Tim, who will likely remember the second biggest Sabres fan every time he laces his skates and hits the ice to play hockey.
Finally, there was time for one last silly remark from the amazing and courageous woman who can rest assured that she left no stone unturned to ensure her husband’s care and comfort was continuous and loving as long as he was living.
None of us know how much in-between time we have; however we can learn from Tim that it is not how much time we have but how well we live into that time that creates the legacy of love we leave.”
Wow, that was a pretty amazing summary of the last five months of Tim’s life. Thank you, my dear friend!
I do remember that last Sunday Tim was in Hospice. Frankie had come to visit and when he was leaving, Tim plastered his face over and over again with kisses.
Frankie, being an eight-year-old boy, definitely is NOT a fan of kisses. But he tolerated it well, and perhaps even welcomed it. I think in his young mind, somewhere he understood the significance.
It was the last time Tim would see his youngest child.
Next, my niece, Gina did another New Testament reading. “A reading from Second Corinthians. For which cause we faint not; but though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory;
While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.
For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.”
The theme of these verses is consistent and completely in sync with what our lives were and beliefs became.
My minister then gave the homily. “You’ve already heard at least two really good sermons this afternoon, so I’m not going to try to compete with those. But I do want to share with you just a brief reflection on that one reading from Romans.
I wouldn’t say it was my insistence, but I encouraged Darcy to think about this passage. This is a slightly different version than was read earlier.
‘Likewise, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.’
“I was with Tim and Darcy on Thursday and at that point, Tim had become unresponsive. He was sleeping. His sleep was interrupted only by a deep sighing about every 15 or 20 minutes.
And he would be laying there very peaceful and then all of a sudden he would go ‘Aaaaah.’
After spending perhaps an hour there talking with Darcy, we prayed together for Tim and with Tim there around the bed. I said to Darcy ‘You know Darcy, I just can’t get that passage out of my head from Romans where it talks about the Spirit interceding for us with sighs, too deep for words.’
I have no doubt that it was the Spirit of God interceding for Tim at that very moment, ushering him from this life into that life to come.
You know, part of this, well, a huge part of this feels so wrong, which is the fact that a wonderful, gifted father and grandfather and husband and friend died too young. But I was also struck at the funeral home last night by the boards and the pictures and even in the casket itself!
I hope all of you got to see that. Tim had a kind of parting shot. ‘Please put a crossword puzzle and pencil in the casket,’ and Darcy put in a flashlight just in case he woke up. (Reverend Miller was chuckling at this point.)
Tim was a man of humor, of great humor. Of great dry wit. And it never seemed to escape him. Not even last Sunday when I was there serving communion and he indeed took the juice and said ‘chaser!’ “
Tim loved life. And I think he loved life more since May than maybe he was able to love life in all the years prior to that. And maybe that indeed is the lesson for us. Maybe that’s the thing Tim has to teach us.
To not wait for a diagnosis. To not wait until the end is clear, but to grab a hold of life, a hold of those we love, to let them know it, to live each and every day fully.
I think Tim was able to do it and do it with such confidence because of his faith. Not a faith that he trumpeted. Not a faith that he even necessarily pursued, but faith that he came to because of his commitment to Darcy and Frankie.
He sat many Sundays in this sanctuary, right over there. I think he absorbed that Spirit. It became a part of him. It upheld him and it sustained him.
Thanks be to God for the life and witness of Timothy M. Colvin. Amen.”
Then our associate pastor prayed and led us in the Lord’s Prayer.
After that, there was a commending of the body and spirit. We had gotten much closer to Reverend Taylor over the summer. Reverend Miller was on sabbatical from June 1st until October 1st so Reverend Taylor was the one who would occasionally come over and talk with us and pray with us. I felt truly blessed to be able to have both of them officiate at the service.
Next, Tristan sang a song I had picked out. Tristan played with me in our contemporary worship group at church. He had been there long before me, I think. And he was our one actual professional in the band who has recorded music.
An excellent musician whose voice I love. I was thrilled when he agreed to sing “Save a Place For Me,” by Matthew West. It’s a beautiful song that addresses a loved one who has recently died. It talks about being reunited in heaven one day.
The words, coupled with Tristan’s beautiful, haunting voice, undid any composure I had left at this point. I melted like butter in my pew, upheld only by the strength of my sisters.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zbsBUf9VKyc
Last was the Benediction, chosen from the Roswell book of prayers, given by Reverend Miller. “God’s purpose stands firm, and you, His little one, need only one thing. Trust that God is able and willing to satisfy your needs. This is the essence of it all. God is love. God loves you. God carries your burdens. Amen.”
The same song “Everything is Grace” was played when we left the sanctuary with the casket. We then walked down the street to the cemetery.
When I say we, I mean Reverend Miller and I. He took my hand and walked me there, keeping me steady. There was a story even behind that.
It was a lovely day out and Tim liked the thought of us going to see him after church on Sundays. However, there was a little snag with the funeral home people. It was run by a man and his son.
I had told the son at the church that I wanted to walk to the cemetery after the service and he told me I had to ride in the limo, even though it was just down the street. He then sent his father over who put a condescending arm around my shoulder and told me “We are just going to do this like we always do or you will screw up all the cars.”
Well, I knew better than to accept that. So I just fetched good ‘ol Summer. I let her know what happened and she took care of things in no time flat. No one messes with Summer. She made short work of those boys.
As Reverend Miller and I stood there, waiting for everyone else to arrive, I was shocked that Tim and I had left this little detail out. No thoughts whatsoever as to what to do at the cemetery.
Reverend Miller chuckled and said he could handle it, and of course, he did. Then back to the church for a luncheon, which I remember very little of. I do know we had tons and tons of food leftover.
Monday, October 18, 2010 Guestbook entry from Mom B
Darcy and Frankie, You both were in my thoughts all weekend. I wish I could have been there to offer an additional shoulder to lean on. This journey you have been on has been long and you will continue to face others as you go forth.
Let family, friends, and faith help you through this transition. I do not believe that time heals; it only makes what has happened easier to accept and continue with a somewhat normal existence. The sense of loss is always there.
Memories of Tim and the wonderful years you shared together will brighten up your days and your nights. Love, Mom B. End entry
Ah, the nights. I dread those the most
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