Finding healing after my friend died

Her name was Lily. We had been coworkers at my first job and had worked together every weekend. Lily was always so helpful, and she went the extra mile to make sure our customers were well cared for. She was a wonderful person to talk to—and a wonderful friend. 

As the summer of my junior year approached, I got an amazing opportunity to attend a high school for Christian Scientists in Colorado. It was an experience I couldn’t pass up, and I decided to go. But while I was off at school, I got a call that Lily had passed away suddenly. I hadn’t been home for a long time, and hadn’t seen Lily in an even longer time, so the news hit me hard. 

I felt lost and struggled with the pain of her absence. It felt like not only the end of her life but also a permanent end to a chapter in my life. I was forced to face the reality that if I ever decided to return to the life I’d left behind at home, she would not be there to welcome me back. On top of that, I couldn’t even attend her funeral in person. 

I felt lost and struggled with the pain of my friend’s absence.

To say that this experience was a storm of sadness and pain would be an understatement. It felt as if I had abandoned her—that the choice I’d made to move to Colorado had been the wrong one. I was forced to say goodbye from a computer screen 1,200 miles away. 

As I experienced waves of anger and heartbreak, I reached out to a person who always knows exactly the right thing to say to me, and our conversation inspired me to read an article originally published in The Christian Science Monitor called “The passing of the sea gull.” The article pointed to a couple of ideas from the Bible and Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy that gave me a feeling of peace that I hadn’t found anywhere else.

The first was from a Bible story about a woman whose son had died. When she spoke with a servant of the prophet Elisha, her faith and trust in God led her to say that everything was OK. She responded to the prophet’s question “Is it well with the child?” with “It is well” (II Kings 4:26). And her faith and persistence led to the prophet going to her home to restore her son to life. While the situation was different with my friend, this story did help me understand that, in reality, Lily is well, whether I can see her and talk to her or not.

I recognized that my friend’s existence continues, even if it’s beyond what I can see.

The second thought that helped me is based on an idea from Science and Health, where Mrs. Eddy writes, “When being is understood, Life will be recognized as neither material nor finite, but as infinite,—as God, universal good . . .” (p. 76). We tend to think of people as having their own lives—lives that can end. But from a spiritual perspective, God is divine Life and the source of all life, so life must truly be spiritual and eternal—without beginning or ending. I understood that, as an expression of Life, Lily didn’t have a beginning or an end. 

After reading this article, I recognized that my friend’s existence continues, even if it’s beyond what I can see. I no longer felt grief beating in my heart as strongly as I did God holding me in perfect peace. I began to realize that the love I will always have for Lily can never be taken from me. I still miss being able to see her, but I will carry her friendship with me always. I’m grateful to say that I can think of Lily now with gratitude instead of sadness.

Lily taught me many things. Her passing—and my prayers about it—taught me even more, but the greatest thing I learned is this: Even when people pass from our sight, their beauty and love remain with us, reminding us that God, Love, and His expression are infinitely beautiful and eternal.