Funeral for a friend

Affirmation

To grow old is to lose everything.
Aging, everybody knows it.
Even when we are young,
we glimpse it sometimes, and nod our heads
when a grandfather dies.
Then we row for years on the midsummer
pond, ignorant and content. But a marriage,
that began without harm, scatters
into debris on the shore,
and a friend from school drops
cold on a rocky strand.
If a new love carries us
past middle age, our wife will die
at her strongest and most beautiful.
New women come and go. All go.
The pretty lover who announces
that she is temporary
is temporary. The bold woman,
middle-aged against our old age,
sinks under an anxiety she cannot withstand.
Another friend of decades estranges himself
in words that pollute thirty years.
Let us stifle under mud at the pond's edge
and affirm that it is fitting
and delicious to lose everything. 

Poet Donald Hall

Debra Ann Johnson's last visit to our home in June

PORTLAND, Maine — We buried a good friend and sister-in-law at Forrest City Cemetery on a Monday afternoon.

The clouds gave way to bright sunshine as a few mourners said kind words about Debra Ann Johnson. Dark skies returned as teary-eyed friends and family reluctantly left the cemetery to go on living without her. 

When somebody like Debra Ann Johnson passes, I feel shortchanged, even cheated. And please don't bother explaining the process of death, grief and the most overused and pathetic word when it comes to accepting death — closure. I will look the other way and ignore you. Closure doesn't exist. You just live with the pain that comes from loss. 

Being the last man standing in this fickle life really means experiencing the anguish of watching wonderful souls march into eternity, leaving you behind with memories and sadness. It can suddenly become an empty world when loved ones vanish over time.

Debra Ann stood up for me when I needed emotional support. And here I was standing beside her graveside to honor a mother who raised three fine sons and still found compassion and kindness to reach out to her sister, Terri.

I have only known Debra Ann for five years. It was a short friendship, but I know the bond will last a lifemine.

Debra Ann had a positive influence on our lives. She was a remarkable piece of nature's work because she found a way to move on despite her ups and downs. But Debra Ann was a woman of conviction and persevered no matter what life threw at her.

Her first priority was her family, and that is why I love and respect her. She kept it together for her family, and that says something about this woman who had the capacity to make her world a better place for her offspring.

Talk about courage.

My courage was waning as I waited for Terri to emerge in one piece from life-saving back surgery. Debbie and her family came to my rescue after making the long trip from Lincoln. They sat with me for hours in a waiting room to help me hold it together. Debra Ann had her own numerous responsibilities, but she put her life on hold for an entire day. She wanted to be at Terri's beside when she awoke. 

Sometimes, families drift away as the years roll along. Debbie Johnson brought us together, and our reunion continues to this day as I to meet the rest of Debra Ann's family.

Debra Ann Johnson, who was born Oct. 15, 1965 and died on Sept. 10, 2013, didn't receive medals or become a celebrity for making family her first priority in life. But she did have the love of a grateful family.

I won't say so long, Debra Ann. As far as we are concerned, you are alive and well in our hearts.