My sister Janet Dowell passed away on August 16th after a long and difficult battle with cancer.   I loved her so much.  While I know it is good that her pain is done, processing and dealing with her loss is going to take while.  She was so loving and so warm..  When I was up there some while back, she said she wanted me to speak at her service when the time came.  When I sat down the night before her service to try and organize my thoughts, the words came out effortlessly.  So much so, it surprised me.  I credit that to the clarity and genuineness of her lifelong gift of love to those around her.  I was just one of the lucky recipients.

What follows is what I said last Friday morning, August 20th at a family-only (due to Covid) grave-side service at Elmwood Cemetery in Mexico, MO.

When our dad died, I wanted to speak at his funeral service.   I just felt that I owed him that …. To have someone who knew him and loved him unconditionally speak to the folks gathered there.  Someone who could speak from firsthand knowledge about his character and the incredibly wonderful man and husband and father and grandfather and great-grandfather he was.  It was the right decision.   It would have felt wrong to me not to have done that.

Because of that, when mom passed away my sister Janet presumed I would do the same thing. I think she even told the good folks at Arnold’s (funeral home) I would speak.  And she also told them that I could probably be persuaded to play my guitar … some of the church songs that I used to play for mom, and that she loved so much.  But somehow, it just felt different to me. I didn’t really want to speak.  It’s not that I loved her any less than dad.  It was just that I wanted to be a little boy grieving his mommy in that moment.  So I didn’t speak.   I sat with family, next to my sister and we hugged and we cried.  That was the right decision too.

So here we are today ….. and a big part of me just wants to be that little boy grieving the loss of his beloved big sister.     But Janet had specifically asked me to speak at her service, and of course I said yes. Because just like each of you in your own individual ways, I loved her unconditionally.   And there’s nothing I would not do for her.

When I was up here in May, we were sitting in her living room talking about things ….. she already knew her time was very limited….   She looked at me with that special smile she had, and said, “I’ve loved you since before you were born.”   My heart just melted    It was a tender moment with one of the most tender-hearted souls it’s ever been my privilege to know.

When I spoke to her on the phone early last week, her voice was so weak.  I knew I had to get up here quick for an in-person visit.   I flew up on Thursday.  Our visit that night was so sweet.  I sat by her and held her hand and we talked.  She was physically wasting away …. but that old sparkle was in her eyes.  And though her voice was weak, she asked about my family and how was everyone?  And she told me again how much she loved me and was proud of me.   Because true to her spirit, right to the end she was thinking of how she could make ME feel good and special and cherished. She did that for everyone.   That was one of her true gifts.   Her superpower.

She also asked me that night, “Tell me stories about my mom and dad.”   So I did.   I told her about being a little boy, and how dad would need to go “down to the plant” at night.  And how he would often take me along and loved it when the guys working the late shift would look this little skinny kid in way-too-big white hard-hat of a member of management and say, “Hey Shouse!  I see you brought your helper along!”    And the hard-hat I was wearing was one of his.  Janet loved that story, and even more when I told her I still have his hardhat with his name on it.  I reminded her of how when I was a little boy and she was a teenager, dad stored most of the Christmas lights for the city of Mexico in our basement, and on the day after Thanksgiving his crews would come over, pull them all out and light them up in our back yard.   How kids would come from blocks around to see the red and green and blue lights in our backyard that evening.   She smiled and softly said, “I remember.”

I told her about how when I was a little boy, and it was time for bed, I’d ask my mommy to tell me stories about when SHE was a little girl.   Mom told me about delivering the mail on a mule, up and down the road their farm was on in Callaway County.   She told me about being chased by a big angry mamma sow when she and her sister Polly were taking a shortcut to school across a field.    She told me about how her own mom, our Grandma Sampson would send her out to the chicken yard with instructions to “wring a couple of chicken’s necks” so their big family could have fried chicken for Sunday dinner.  And I told Janet how much I loved HER for the way she took care of our mom right to the end, and what a comfort she was to mom in her final weeks and days.  As I told these stories to her last Thursday she smiled, her eyes occasionally got wide, and she squeezed my hand.    It was bittersweet … and so wonderful.

I told the girls later that our Thursday night visit was priceless.   I’ll cherish that time and those memories forever.   I meant that.  I believe there are timeless moments in our lives that just live so clearly and perfectly inside of us.   This was one of those for me.

My big sister Janet could be tough as they come.   Seriously …. She was one of the toughest people I’ve ever known.   And wicked smart in so many ways.   She’d HAVE to be tough and smart to have not only survived in that job with the Missouri Department of Corrections but to have thrived and to have risen to a position of great responsibility as “Major Dowell”.   In her job interview, they asked why she thought she could do the job.  Her reply?  “I’m a farm wife. I do farm chores. One of those is when my husband Ron is driving in the cows, and I take up a station at the gate and turn out the bulls.  Have YOU ever faced down a bull?  I’m pretty sure I can handle this.”

Tough and smart and tender and giving and loving.

Seriously, is there a better combination for a person to have?

I remember a conversation with dad where he told me, “You know, if Janet had $10 and you needed $9.50, she’d give it to you.”  I said, “No, if she had $10 and you needed all 10 of it, she’d give you the $10.”   I believe that’s true too.   I know you believe it as well.  That’s just who she was.

But it’s the tender and loving part that meant the world to me and to so many of you.

Our daughter Emma wanted to be here today, but it’s just not a great time in her life to travel right now, with so much going on at home.   Even so, she wrote the sweetest memory of her Aunt Janet, and I’m going to share it here.

One of my recurring memories of MO visits in my early years was Aunt Janet always being so calm and loving and affectionate with me and doing my hair.  Mom didn’t enjoy doing it (Mom, it’s ok, really!  I have so many OTHER gifts from you).  But Aunt Janet and Dana probably took me to the bathroom and brushed my hair and did it up pretty at least a dozen times through the years.   I felt so loved cared for and special when she took that time with me. I felt like she treasured me and it was SO wonderful! 

Emma loves her Aunt Janet (and Aunt Linda and the rest of the family too.)

 

Recently a very wise person explained the idea to me that in this life we each have things that are life giving, and things that are life stealing.  Life giving things are happy times with loved-ones, pleasant memories of good times in the past …. All those happy and wonderful experiences that each of us have.    Life stealing things are when we experience strife and conflict and anger and setbacks of all kinds.  And yes, of course those include loss.

It’s our responsibility to try to find a way to “tip the scales” in our own favor by seeking out life-giving experiences.  That’s just common-sense self-care.

Today we are each grieving Janet in our own way.  And that’s normal.  It’s normal because we each have our own unique, individual experiences of her.

Even so, I think we can all agree on one thing.   Being with her was ALWAYS … ALWAYS … ALWAYS a life-giving experience.  That’s because she gave so freely and generously of her love in every way.

I told the girls that my trip up here last week, even though Janet was so clearly right near the end, was far more life-giving and life affirming than it was anything else.

I can’t know exactly how any of you are feeling.  I only know for sure how hard this is for me. It’s so hard.  So hard.

Dwight, I cannot imagine the sorrow and level of grief and uncertainty you are feeling.  The hole you said you feel in your soul.   But I know the love that Janet … and Ron … poured into you continually.  She was more than just a grandma to you.   You are the man of good character that you are today, with a huge and tender heart, because of the love she poured out for you your entire life.

Lisa, Missy, Dana, I likewise cannot imagine the loss you are feeling now with your mom gone.  I know that she was always there for you. Always. And I know that each of you in your own way leaned on her and counted on her presence.  So of course the future seems scary and uncertain. Cling to one another as best you can … and as I told you last week … I am here for you.   I am here for you.   I’m a poor substitute for your dad, and could never replace you mom and wouldn’t try.   But I’m here, I love you, and you can always just pick up the phone and call.   And I really hope you will.   And look at the example of sisterly love your mom and Linda left for you.

Jim, you’ve lost one of your two baby sisters…. I can’t imagine how you are feeling.   I’m reminded of that picture of the three of you before I was ever a gleam in dad’s eye, standing by Mr. Green’s fireplace at Christmas in your jammies, for a photo shoot for the cover of the AP Green magazine.   I would love to go back and be a fly on the wall in the Shouse House in those years on West Love Street, to see those two little girls and their big brother and a young and vital mom and dad.    I know there were good and precious times.  I pray that you have those memories to cling to.

Linda, I have no words.   None. I can’t fathom what this loss must mean to you.  You said

“She has been my rock for as many years as I can remember, always willing to let little sister tag along. Through the most joyous of times and saddest times she was by my side. The laughter and tears we shared are the special times that made all of the memories precious.”   

You two shared so much of “life” together.  For over seven decades now …. SEVEN DECADES… you’ve been there for each other.  You were more than just sisters.  You were best friends.  In good times of joy and laughter, and through far, far too much tragic loss … you were there for each other.  I can only say that you need to know that YOU were her rock too.    I cannot think of either of you without the other.   This is going to be so, so hard.   But you will…. You WILL find that new “okay”.   I promise.    And I want to be part of it, okay?    I am here for you too, love.   I am here, and I love you unconditionally.

You know…. You two could talk about anything.   Anything.

Well….  *almost* anything.      There’s one area that Janet told me she just wouldn’t “go there” with you.  Politics.   So over the last four years, as she sat there and watched the news …… and got more and more disgusted with what she saw….. it was little brother…. a reliable Yellow-Dog Democrat … that she turned to.

She’d call me up and say, “Have you seen what ‘that man’ in the White House is doing???”   And proceed to rail about the latest perceived atrocity.   And I’d sympathize …. (because she was right) ….. then we would turn the conversation to her and family and how my family was doing and we’d just end up having the best conversation.  Okay, sorry about that.  I really just wanted her to have the last word on that subject.   So there.   And I choose to believe she’s laughing right now.

Seriously now…. I hope we can agree on one MORE thing…   That even in the midst of our grief, Janet would want us to draw closer to one another, to cling to one another in love.  To put the cares of this world in perspective and realize that the gift of family …. Both the family we are given, and the family we choose to love, is really the very best thing ever.

There are gifts in EVERY moment of our lives.   Sometimes … like in moments of sorrow and pain …. we have to really dig hard to find them. It can be hard to express gratitude in the middle of grief.

But her gifts to us in this moment are clear. They are all the memories we have, the guidance given, the lessons taught, the laughs shared, the tears shared, the warm hugs, the amazing smiles, the sparkling eyes, and the knowledge that when we were with her, we were loved.    Those are precious and priceless gifts.

For me, I don’t think she’s gone.  Not really.    She lives in our hearts, and in our memories, and in our undying love.    And I choose to believe that somehow, in ways none of us fully understand yet, she is with us, still loving us and cherishing each and every one of us.    And we can choose to “lean in” on the example of love she showed us.

And THAT is a life giving thing if ever there was one.

I know that would make Janet very happy.