In Loving Memory - Ted

It's appropriate, somehow, to follow a post about a new life that recently entered this world, with one about another life that has moved onto the next.

Eric and I had the privilege of a short friendship with our brother-in-Christ, Ted Eatmon. We knew him from Living Water - a tall, lanky, African-American man, in his early sixties, with the kindest smile and gentlest eyes. He knew my name before I knew his, and would always give me a hug during the passing of the peace. Well, we had name tags, which could account for his knowing my name so readily - but somehow it always felt as though, when he greeted me, he was greeting an old friend.

We didn't know too much about him, or his past, but one day last year, he stood up in front of the congregation and told everyone his health was declining due to the lung cancer he'd battled for many years. He stood there, tall, with determined vulnerability. He told us that he needed us - for our prayers, and our companionship. He needed us to walk with him. We didn't know he'd had lung cancer - he'd been diagnosed in 2000, with maybe a year to live, and due to his faith, his healthy lifestyle, and participating in an experimental drug program, he lived on in this life for a further eight.

Eric and I grew to know him better after that - we'd go for meals at his home, and share fellowship with him as part of the same small group. He even came grocery shopping with me to Trader Joe's. He didn't drive, but used to ride his bike everywhere -and due to diminished lung capacity wasn't cycling anymore and Trader Joe's is pretty far.

Ted loved children, and was an integral part of the church's after school program, and even when he no longer had the strength to leave his apartment (across the street from the church) he still gave art lessons once a week to a few of the kids who would be taken to his home. Art was another of Ted's passions and talents. He gave us beautiful bookmarks, and when we moved to this neighborhood a month ago, Ted gave us a wonderful card he'd made himself, welcoming us. It's on our fridge and when we see it we'll always think of him.

Along with the gift of his friendship and of himself, Ted also gave us and the church another gift. By opening himself up and being so vulnerable, Ted gave us the opportunity to walk alongside him. I've never experienced something like this before. Certainly there was the time for prayer for healing, and he lived far beyond the initial prognosis - but in these latter days you knew you were walking with someone who was dying.

In the last month or so, our small group and others in the church were on shift to bring him meals three times a day. He ate my bean soup with gusto, but the day before he died, he wasn't tempted by the bobotie I'd prepared.
In the last two weeks, people were with him 24/7, even sleeping over. Ted was never left alone. When he passed away last Monday night, he was surrounded by loving friends and his daughter.

Last night was the aptly named "home-going celebration", held at the church.

Ted was laying in the casket that a few men in the church had made over the last few months, commissioned by Ted himself. Some women in the church had sewn in the lining. Examples of his art - his paintings, his bookmarks, were on display, along with his paint brushes. His coffee table, with its glass lid and treasures displayed below, was next to the coffin. His backpack, his bike helmet, a game of chess with Ted's favored opening moves, his flute - all there. It was a snapshot of who he was.

People shared memories of him, and how he'd touched their life. There was a beautiful photo slideshow. And Ted himself spoke - a video he'd recorded for the after school kids when he realised he could no longer cross the street to care for them - to let them know he loved them, that he didn't fear death because he knew his God and that his God loved him, and to tell them to eat healthy and make the most of their education!

The choir sang Ave Maria. The first Sunday Ted no longer was able to make it to service, they'd sung it in church - and then went to his home to give him a private performance.

The entire service was so intimate, so loving, and a truthful mix of being so very sad that he is no longer with us, a celebration of a life transformed by God, and a peace knowing that he is with our Lord - and we will see him again.