I drove to Mint Hill yesterday for the “celebration of life and resurrection” in honor of Amy Sue Terrenzio Madden.  She was only a few months younger than me, just shy of her 44th birthday.  Amy woman was so loved that when I arrived at 2:00 (which was when the service started, despite my best efforts to pass slow-pokes on Hwy. 73 and speed more than my usual 5 mph over the limit on 485), I had to park down the road from the church, and when I got to the church, I found that there was standing room only . . . outside.  I’ve never seen anything like that!  I was so pleased for Amy that she had such an outpouring of love.  I took a photo to capture the impressive crowd of supporters.  Even more people showed up after I took this photo.

We could hear some of the service.  We shyly sang along to “Amazing Grace” and listened to what we could.  And then we went to the gym (a/k/a “Family Life Center”) and celebrated Amy’s life by visiting with others who miss her, looking at photos of her, listening to music that I presume she enjoyed, and wishing she was physically there with us.

As she should be.

People traveled from various cities and states to honor Amy – people who had worked with her, been her friends, been her family . . .  Although I didn’t know Amy well, it was what I expected, because every time I encountered her, she struck me as a quality person.  She seemed liked someone I would like to know, someone I would enjoy knowing, someone who was kind, loving, and fun.  Everyone I spoke to vouched for that.  You can tell something about people by the people who surround them, and the people who came to mourn Amy yesterday were a solid bunch.  I loved meeting her family.  I found out that Amy and I had a friend in common that we never even knew about.  These connections delight me – more ways to remember her – more people to talk about her with.

My nephews take credit for introducing me to the song “Glorious” by Macklemore, and some of my favorite lines are these:

I heard you die twice, once when they bury you in the grave
And the second time is the last time that somebody mentions your name

We are Amy’s legacies now.  All of us who love her, who knew her, who miss her, will talk about her and make sure the world knows her.

When I left, I realized how far away I’d parked.  Because, as I said, it was a full house and then some.

On my way to Charlotte, I updated the flowers on my dad’s brother’s grave, and on my way out of Charlotte, I updated the flowers on my parents’ grave – and ran into our neighbors of 38 years at the cemetery.  I thought that was really perfect.

I had dinner with my family.  I saw friends.  Yesterday was a celebration of life . . . of remembering those who have passed and enjoying time with those who haven’t.

Much love to you, Amy.  We’ll meet you on the other side.