Emily-One of the Dearest Friends God Ever Gave Me

by Bethany Lee
(Wheaton, IL)

Bethany and Emily

Four days before Christmas, while a friend and I were giddily piling candy and frosting all over a gingerbread house, Emily called to tell me that at the age of 25 she had a lung tumor and they were going to have to remove half her right lung.

She said they thought they would be able to get all of it with the surgery, and that she would be able to function fine afterwards, even with part of her lung missing. I let my breath out, letting the shock of the news roll off me.

"I don’t know, Bethany, it just seems like I’ve had about enough adventure in 25 years for a whole lifetime!" I agreed, suggesting that maybe she could ask God to give her a little peace and quiet from now on.

"I’m really disappointed," she told me. "I wanted so much to come to Iowa and see you guys this Christmastime."

"Don’t worry," I said quickly. "I’ll try to come see you. I’ll be praying for you, Em."

That was the last time I ever talked to Emily.

Now I’m at a lake house in Minnesota at what feels like an impromptu commune of some of Emily’s closest friends and their family members while we all try to make sense of it together. I’ve never experienced anything like this before–a close friend my own age dying with barely any warning–but this feels like perhaps the best possible way to be dealing with it.

We all eat together, sit around together and stare blankly into space, or talk about Emily, or cry, sing, laugh at happy memories with her or the funny movies that we watch every night. . . there’s nothing else going on that doesn’t have to do with Emily. And I think it’s so good. These days, people seem to try to get all their greiving in at the visitation and funeral. Two days! Besides that, it’s supposed to be business as usual. Here, we have a place for our emotions, whatever they might be.

My emotions have been all over the place. There have been lots of tears, but lots of dry, flat stretches, too. Where I can’t really feel anything and I want to, I want to understand how I should be feeling, but I just can’t. Lots of regret (Why wasn’t I a better friend? Why didn’t I call her more? Why didn’t I try to go see her before the surgery?), lots of happy memories (of our times in Mexico, Colombia, road trips and around Muscatine), lots of questions (Why did she have to go when she would have done so much good for this world and everyone around her if she had lived out her life?)

She was one of the most passionate people I knew. Every time I talked to her, she was excited about something new. Whether it was a new idea (like a day of prayer at her church for the Somali community in Minneapolis), a new insight about God and her relationship with Him, something she was learning, or some new place she was planning to go (ranging from Guatemala to the U.A.E. to India), she was always bursting at the seams to tell all about it in the most dramatic way possible! No one could resist her captivating stories, and she always seemed to have a new one, even if it was just a vivid sketch of one of her characters–maybe the kids she tutored, some of the patients she met at the VA hospital where she was a nurse, or people in her apartment building.

She was quick with a smile, quicker with a laugh, and was a glutton for adventure. I told one of my friends after Emily died, "I really think that she had just had all the adventures she possibly could here on earth and moved on to the biggest one of all!" Her roommate told me that she had made a list of things she wanted to do in her life, and shortly before the operation was looking at it. She told her roommate, "You know, I’ve done everything on this list!"

I can’t really be sad when I think about her because I know what a blast she’s having in heaven! I can just see her up there, all excited about every new thing she gets to do now!

For those of us left down here, Emily has left a legacy that it will take a lifetime of hard work to live up to. She taught me the meaning of dreaming big, loving life, loving people and loving God, believing that things can change for the better, and stubbornly refusing to give up until they do. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to keep trying to make a difference in this world without her eternal optimism and spunky example to follow, but I’ve promised myself that I will. I’m going to do my best to make you proud, Em!