LJ

I'm not sure what I'd like to say today. I wish things had turned out differently. But they didn't. Four years today ago a friend of mine was taken off life support. Writing is theraputic so I'm going to share the story. More for me than anything else.

Friday, April 21, 2006

Some good friends, Katie and Jake were having an engagement party in Greenville, SC. John and Lauren changed at our office and followed one another to Greenville. I left after work and drove to Presbyterian College to stopped off at my friend Leigh's townhouse to change clothes; we were both in awful moods. I left Leigh's and headed to the party. On my way, I saw the worst wreck I have ever seen (still, to this day). There was a helicopter on the highway - a first for my eyes. I remember praying for the family and friends of those involved because I knew the person in the smushed up car would not survive. I made it to the party (after getting lost and calling John for help several times). Katie told me her family saw the same wreck I did and her sister burst into tears when she saw it.

Good food and wine and the bad mood subsided. I remember John wondering where Lauren was and why she hadn't yet arrived. They left at the same time, but she wasn't there yet. I told him that she probably got side-tracked and stopped off at Wal-Mart or the mall or something. Her phone went to voicemail. Katie asked me if she thought the wreck could be LJ, but I said no, the car was on the other side of the highway from how Lauren would be traveling. Eventually, the party wound down and I drove to Spartanburg to stay with Courtney for the night. It was pouring down rain: the kind where you can barely see two feet in front of you...but eventually I made it.

Later that night I got a text message from Ryan saying that Lauren had been in a horrible wreck. I called John and he told me the wreck I'd see was in fact Lauren. I don't think I can describe that feeling. Courtney offered to drive me to the hospital, but while deciding I fell asleep.

April 22, 2006

The next morning I awoke to phone calls with updates on Lauren. Again, Courtney offered to drive me, but for some reason I kept falling back asleep. Then my boss called and asked if I'd let other people in our department know. I awoke. I called co-workers and close friends and asked them to pray. Katie told me her oxygen levels were up and doing really well and things were looking great. How could they not be? I asked myself. Lauren Jones was the most resilient person I knew; of course she'd bounce right back from this. A while later I got another call from Katie. This time was quite different. She told me things had taken a turn, she wasn't going to make it, and I needed to come say goodbye. Courtney wrote directions (pre GPS era). While she was doing so, I called John just to confirm Katie was right - it wasn't until then that I believed she wouldn't make it. I realized I left my bra in Clinton at Leigh's. I wore my favorite, super old Abercrombie jeans, red Crocs, yellow t-shirt that Krissie and Aimee got me at Goodwill, and a sports bra of Courtney's. Again, it was raining as I drove to Greenville Memorial. Telling my boss, Phyllis, was the hardest person: in so many ways, their personalities mirrored each other.

I saw the wreck with my own eyes, and knew it would be damn-near impossible to live though, but it wasn't until I saw Lauren in the ICU that it was real to me. She, being a slender runner, size 0, was the same person, but all puffed up. Eery. And of course she had just dyed her hair: no longer was it light brown. She donned a reddish/orange-y tent that looked a smidge purple under the hospital's florescent lights. John, Jenn, Marshall, and I saw her together and Marshall prayed over her, over us. Lots of people came to the hospital and there was a deep rooted joy in and amongst the sorrow. They waited for her sister and brother-in-law to fly in from Texas to pull her off life support.

The days that followed are still vivid. I remember seeing so much love (especially from Leigh at Kaye's wedding), so much hope, so much sadness, so much growing up. This was the first person I'd lost that was in my everyday world. We worked together, were in Bible study together, and had so many mutual friends. Lauren was full of love and life. She was easily excitable and loved people. She was a giver and generous. She had lots of sass. I miss her. Sometimes death hurts a lot -- there have been times when it felt like the world was caving in on my chest from the longing to have one more opportunity with her. I think the words to "In Christ Alone" are beautiful but loathe singing that song because it reminds me of her funeral. I know that Lauren Marie Jones is rejoicing and dancing around in heaven with our Lord, for "precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints," (Psalm 116:15), and I can't wait to see her when I, too, meet our maker face to face.

Time does a lot of healing and restoring. But (so far) on this day, I am always a bit sad as I remember Lauren. And that's ok with me.

It seems like yesterday; it seems like a million miles away.