Hallelujah

What would the world be like without Jeff Buckley? I hope he is still making music in the spirit world.

I served in Waterloo for an abnormally long time, for many reasons, but none parallel in importance to Kaye.

I met Kaye January 28. Sister Rider and I lived across the street from Kaye and her husband. We moved in January 26, that night. We cleaned the apartment as a blizzard raged on the 27th. On the 28th we weren't allowed to drive because of the poor road conditions. Having only a five-year-old roster to guide us, we saw the first name on the list--Adele--and went for a visit. Just after we left, Sister Rider lost circulation in her wrist. We had to get to an ER, fast, so we called Kaye. Kaye was sick herself. Rapidly advancing degenerative disc disease, recovering from consecutive neck and back surgeries, she was so limited from her pain. She forgot herself and took us to "Dead Bud." Kaye and I talked for three hours as we waited. I learned more about her and her life that day than anyone had in years, she later told me. I loved her.

My last visit with Kaye was August 19. Late Wednesday afternoon. Larry had just finished installing the new oven. He'd also just moved her sister Vicki's old recliner into the family room, where the couch had been, in preparation for Kaye's recovery from her upcoming neck surgery. She didn't think she was going to live through the surgery. It was the first in a succession of surgeries on her spine, which had degraded at an astronomical rate between February and August. Kaye was so scared. She told us that a few days before, shed been driving down 270 and suddenly felt a great warmth within her. She said, for the first time in her life, she felt forgiven. "Why would that be? Why would I feel that?" she asked us. She joked about her favorite drink, a dirty martini, with three olives. We ran into Kaye and Larry at Applebees that night. They sat at the table behind us. Kaye ordered a dirty martini with three olives. She offered me an olive.

Kaye died August 21. We don't know why. Her husband Larry came home from work and saw Kaye sleeping peacefully on the couch. Something told him to go check on her, right away. Her spirit had long since separated from her body. She was smiling. She was at rest. Her funeral was on my birthday, the 25th. I got to sing and speak. I also got to witness her husband, my dear Brother Larry, return to church after 13 years. It was the best birthday present I've ever been given.

I have felt Kaye's presence often since she passed. She is near, always near. In August I will be proxy for Kaye to be sealed to Larry. I am pretty sure this will be the happiest day of my life, thus far.

Kaye was my aunt, my best friend, my mother, my sister, my daughter--the depth of my relationship with her is one I hope to cultivate with every woman I am so privileged to serve. Rarely are we able to serve people in ways that require transcendent selflessness. I was blessed with opportunity to do this, for Kaye. Words cannot convey the significance of these experiences. Maybe sometime I will tell you about them.

Alma 26:16.