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I’ve often thought that the term “celebration of life” was a bit of a spin job, designed to make us all feel better about someone’s death. After all, grieving and celebrating seem like natural antonyms of each other.

I stand corrected after attending my late friend, Suzanne’s, Celebration of Life this past Saturday. Suzanne died unexpectedly on December 18th from a massive stroke and I, like most of the large crowd in attendance at Holy Trinity Episcopal Church on Saturday, still couldn’t believe that such a bright spirit had simply vanished.  bagpiper

The mournful tones of a lone bagpiper washed over me as soon as I opened my car door and my face was wet with tears before I even made my way inside the church. There would be many more tears but mostly ones of abundant joy for having been in the circle of such an extraordinary human being.

Suzanne’s celebration of life had it all – gorgeous music performed by her beloved Bel Canto chorus, a tender and funny eulogy delivered by a dear friend, and an inspiring homily given by a minister who seemed to know her heart and her struggles.

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Light was in abundance in all manner of ways at Holy Trinity on Saturday.

I smiled throughout her eulogy as I learned so much about my friend that I never knew – including a hilarious story about her being surprised by an earnest pack of Webelos while skinny-dipping in a Texas pond one hot summer’s day. I could almost hear what the minister described as Suzanne’s “unfettered peels of laughter” chiming in with the rest of us as the story unfolded.

I learned that she was a “devoted encourager” often writing notes to young people, particularly those pursuing a career in the arts, and often enclosing a check with her kind words. I smiled as I remembered receiving such a note in support of Triad Health Project, the non-profit that I work for.

I really hope I saved that note.

I smiled again when I heard her described as “swift to love” and that she was known for her “constant practice of generosity.”

To know Suzanne was to also know her passionate love of music, particularly choral music and this music was the soul of her service on Saturday. So it was perfect when the Bel Canto company, her singers, many singing through tears, performed In Paradisum from Maurice Durufle’s Requiem, Op. 9 before Suzanne’s ashes were committed to the columbarium at Holy Trinity. This achingly beautiful piece translates from the Latin as “Into Paradise” and includes these lyrics:

“May the angels lead you into paradise; may the martyrs come to welcome you and take you to the holy city, the new and eternal Jerusalem. May choirs of angels welcome you and lead you to the bosom of Abraham.”

Choirs of angels – yes, nothing else would do for Suzanne Goddard’s arrival.

And may her celestial concert series commence. Brava, dear woman!

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My swift to love friend, Suzanne.

 

 

An Irish exit

Suzanne Goddard

Suzanne Claypool Goddard

Sometimes there are people in our lives, people not necessarily in our closest circles that we are just inexplicably drawn to. You know, the person you’re always happy to run into at the grocery store – the person that always leaves you smiling and feeling oddly hopeful.

My friend, Suzanne, was one of those people in my life. She died suddenly last week at the age of 77 from a massive stroke.

I had one of those chance encounters with her at a Bel Canto concert in Greensboro three nights before she died. Bel Canto is a marvelous professional chorus that has been performing in the Triad for over 30 years. Suzanne adored this group and served on their board of directors.

She gave me tickets to the holiday concert last year and was delighted when my wife and I attended. Last week, I bumped into her as a big crowd was filing into the church for the final performance of the year.

We hugged and chatted for a bit as we meandered in and she looked, as always, bright and beautiful. She had pretty white hair, cut stylishly short and she was always smartly dressed.

Somehow I ended up sitting directly in front of her for the concert. She introduced me to someone sitting beside her and then, as I returned to talking to the friend I was sitting with, I heard her say, “She’s the executive director of Triad Health Project and she’s just precious.”

Seriously? I’m fairly certain my own mother never referred to me as precious.

But that was Suzanne – she made you feel like you hung the moon every time she saw you.

I would often see her at work when she would drop off groceries for our client food pantry. She would always pick up food for Triad Health Project when she went to Costco and she would worry that she should have gotten more fruit cocktail and less tuna fish. She was so thoughtful about what was most needed for our clients.

Suzanne making one of her regular grocery deliveries to THP.

Suzanne making one of her regular grocery deliveries to THP.

 

That was Suzanne.

She served on the board of directors at a similar agency when she lived in Dallas and HIV/AIDS was an issue she was passionate about.

I seemed to run into her more and more in the past year and she was so excited to hear that I had gotten married. She was a longtime supporter of LGBT rights and was thrilled when same-sex marriage was legalized in North Carolina.

We also shared a great love of the Episcopal Church. She was a much beloved member of Holy Trinity, the largest Episcopal Church in Greensboro, and I belong to All Saints, one of the smallest parishes. I have been thinking a lot about many of my dear friends at HT and how deeply they must be grieving this loss.

After the robust applause had subsided at intermission at last week’s concert, I turned around to see Suzanne’s beaming face as she pronounced, “Aren’t they just wonderful!?”

Oh, how she loved her singers.

When the concert was over, we hugged again and wished each other Merry Christmas.

Then I came into work a few days later to hear from a colleague that she was gone. It’s so hard to imagine that much vivaciousness suddenly vanished.

That night I had a dream about Suzanne. She was terribly excited about packing for an upcoming trip to New Zealand. I told her that that was one of the places on my “bucket list” to see, too.

When I woke up the next morning, I told my wife about the dream and she said the loveliest thing that I just know Suzanne would have adored. She said sweetly, “New Zealand. Well, isn’t that a lovely metaphor for heaven.”

I don’t know if heaven is anything like New Zealand but I am certain that no one will have a better time there than Suzanne.

I just wish she had booked a much later flight.

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Wishing you fair winds and following seas, sweet friend.