In Memory of Cheryl Ann Lockwood: May 25, 1960 - September 11, 2014 I’d like to invite you all to take a deep breath . . . We are going to get through this, because there are more laughs to be had, more tears to be shed, more hugs to share, and more life to live. When it gets difficult, breathe . . . breathe in the love of God that fills this sacred place. Breathe with me . . . and breathe with our family to help us all get through this. We are going to get through God no longer expressing itself through our beloved Cheryl in physical form; knowing that in spirit she is eternal. The last word sang in the memorial video was “Satnam”. It’s a Sanskit word that literally translates as “true name”. More deeply it is a celebration of God expressing itself through each person in a way that is unique and beautiful for each one of us. It’s a celebration of living our God-given purpose. In her last days Cheryl was searching through scriptures about life purpose. She had lost track of the realization that she was already living her true purpose this life-time, to love and serve others. She was one of the most kind, gentle, loving, caring and sensitive people I’ve ever known. For as long as we’ve all known Cheryl she’s been the one leading the charge; she was the Geronimo of our tribe. Broken bones, bumps and bruises, black eyes, and even meningitis didn’t slow her down; neither did breaking her collarbone by jumping on mom and dad’s bed with Dave, getting run over by Dave on his a sled, or getting buried in a snow fort when the snow plow went by. Dave pulled her out. Even though Cheryl had figured how to sneak fresh baked cookies and get Dave blamed for it, he still pulled her out. Debi tells me that from the time she was a child Cheryl was always up for late night chats – giggles or consoling. She was always up for a good wrestling match or massage, and she was always first to spot if the cup was up --- meaning the Keller’s pool next door was open to go swim. Recently, Cheryl had gotten into mountain biking in North Carolina. She had been renting a bike and decided to go ahead and buy one. Like most everything she put her heart into, she didn’t go half way on the purchase, it was top of the line. But when she took it out on the trail it didn’t perform well. She ran into trees and rocks, flipped over, and bruised herself from head to toe – but she wouldn’t give up – she had to finish the trail that day. Cheryl was strong-willed and determined with all her goals. She also had high standards for her equipment, and she took the bike back to the store, what was left of it, and got her money back. She’s always been the well-organized one – planning family get togethers and game nights. We’re all going to have to redo our wills and find new executors now. For me, all I really needed to know I learned from my big sister. She was my confidant and close friend. She mentored and kept close tabs on me for the first 22 years of my life, until I was little hard to keep track of. She taught me how to tie my shoes (which was good since Mom is left handed) and how to pet the family dog, ‘nicely’. She taught me how to eat a dandelion that had gone all fluffy to seed; “Open your mouth, close your eyes, and you’ll get a big surprise!” She taught me that we could do things we loved, even if we weren’t good at it. She taught me great love and patience, and emotional vulnerability. I could not be sharing this with you without that lesson. She taught me how to drive a stick shift, and that it was okay to accidently drive over a stop sign with her new car, because she loved me, and welcomed my mistakes. She taught me not to do things for others to try to please them or make them happy. She taught me to do things for others because it made me happy. Joy was one of her greatest gifts. She taught me that Genesee Bear wasn’t cheap enough to actually consider drinking. She taught me how to paint walls; with and without getting paint on the freshly refinished floor. She taught me how to roll a sleeping bag very tight and small; people still wonder how I do it. She advised me never to shop for meat in the same place I got my bread; meaning, don’t date the girls where you work. She taught me how to have fun and take risks. She taught me how to snow ski, and we managed to survive. She showed me how to drive down the sidewalk at 2AM in my college town and not get caught, and again we managed to survive. She taught me the value and joy of having many close, authentic friendships. She informed me that there is a seat and a lid on a toilet; and the correct position for both of them, when not in use, is down. She asked me to never again put liquid dish soap in the dishwasher. She taught me how to give good foot rubs. She taught me how to switch drivers at 65 miles to hour. I won’t tell you how, and be assured that Debi and I used an actual rest stop to switch drivers on the way from North Carolina to New York. She taught me how to trailer a boat, launch it, drive it, and ski behind it. She also taught me that one of the most entertaining places be on a Saturday afternoon, and learn how not to launch a boat, was the public boat launch. She taught me over and over again about love and kindness and service to others. She didn’t just volunteer at soup kitchens, she invited homeless people to her dinner table. She didn’t just give money to people in need, she went to their communities, near and far, and help them build homes. She taught me how to take good pictures and edit them. She asked me not to put non-stick pans and delicate dishes in the dishwasher, and not to break young girls’ hearts. I’m still working on some things. She was the family information technology support help desk. She kept our parents stocked with the latest gizmos and made sure they worked. She probably taught me more about computers and electronics than I learned in with my Electrical Engineering degree. As she’s listening now I can hear her saying, “Really, I taught you all those things?” Yes Cheryl you did, and much, much more. I did not learn them on my own. And here you are teaching me again, teaching me humility. You exemplified true humility; shining your brilliant light so others might know their own. We will grieve your physical absence my sweet sister, and at the same time we will celebrate a life well lived and remember the joy you brought to everyone’s hearts. I know you can see clearly now – free from the illusion of separateness – free from these experiential vehicles we call our bodies, minds, and emotions – knowing the gift of eternal spirit – of your true self as one with God and all of creation. God Bless.
Posted on: Sat, 20 Sep 2014 20:41:53 +0000
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