I Hope They Wear a Little More Pink
By: Challyn Vayle
Tags: Grief, God, Suicide, Religion, Loss

I wrote previously about Erin, Fella’s girlfriend who had died suddenly five years ago. This past week, I had the opportunity to speak with Erin’s advisor about her work, and to learn more about Erin herself. We talked for over an hour… and it got me thinking more in a vein that has been rolling around my mind since joining Erin’s memorial page on Facebook.

How will they remember me?

The memorial page is sparse, but every post speaks to how beautiful she was, the size of her heart and smile and giggle, her love of the color pink. There are similarities between entries, but there are also some great differences, as there were in speaking with her professor. Some of the advisor’s memories aligned with things Fella has told me, but some information was news, both bright and dark. Being gifted with these memories, this understanding, it makes me think.

Is this how Erin thought she would be remembered?

The number one thing that stands out from every story, not just about her but about Chase as well, is that these people were so loved and had so much going for them, but they couldn’t see it. Chase, no matter how good he was to me, no matter how reliable a friend, no matter how many math tests he aced or how many giggles he gave his nephews, no matter how strong his bond with his mom, had this cloud in front of his eyes that screamed “SCREW UP! NO GOOD! NOT WORTH IT! ANYONE WHO KNOWS BETTER WON’T LOVE YOU! RUN!” I wonder about the cloud in front of Erin’s eyes, how strong it was and what words it spoke to her. From my understanding, given how many friends she had, how much Fella loves her, and how brilliant her schoolwork was, I imagine that cloud was thick and dark like a thunderstorm waiting to burst. I wonder if she knew she would be remembered as so beautiful, kind, silly, loving… if she thought she would stay the bright spot in the lives of so many, and that she had held that position in life despite the toll kidney disease was taking on her.

So how would they remember me?

I think about that a lot these days. I think everyone would remember how silly I am, how much I love to eat, how much I love children. I hope everyone would remember how much I love Jesus. But I know Lacey would remember so many different things, being raised together and sharing the same face, the same laugh, the same parents, and half of the same wardrobe. Kathy would remember how I would just pop into her house and love her and her kids, enjoy time with her despite the distractions and interruptions of motherhood. Tiffany would remember ridiculous adventures, eating everything, and how I dragged emotions out of her when neither of us wanted to deal with feelings. Amy would remember me as this sweet, goofy girl who made the best nachos that one time. Rosa would drink sangria and giggle remembering the time we finished the whole bowl and the fruit all by ourselves, and how the boys never let us forget it. Fella would remember my coffee addiction and delight at being covered in warm laundry, my unashamed car dancing and how giant my feelings are. At least, I hope that’s how it would be.

I would hope that, if I wasn’t there to talk their ears off about it, that everyone would take it upon themselves to learn more about John Adams. That when treating themselves to a good bra they would smile and think of me. That everyone would add a little more pink to their wardrobe since I wasn’t around to wear it anymore. That Mom and Lacey would listen to the Barbra Streisand Jingle Bells every year even though Mom hates it, because it’s my favorite.

But mostly, I hope they would love each other better and lean on God.

If anything was my legacy, that’s what I hope it would be. That everyone would celebrate my life by reading the Bible, asking questions about the Lord, meeting more to bolster one another in their faith, become more bold in loving others when it is uncomfortable. That they would never be too busy to sit with one another in grief and hard times.

Chase left a legacy to destigmatize addiction and to laugh, to always show up for a friend. Erin left a legacy of beauty, joy, and education. If I were to leave too soon, I would want my legacy would be of joy in the Lord.

All that being said, I hope that my legacy isn’t one left anytime soon.

I hope that all of the people mentioned here are old, wrinkled, and hobbly by the time my obituary is written. I have to finish Erin’s work, to strive hard for the Lord in spreading grace and kindness. I have my own education to complete, my career and family to start, so many students to teach and encourage. I hope that I have kids and grandkids and great-grandbabies at my funeral that remember Good Ol’ Chall- how she lived long and hard and how there were too many people to count that had felt loved and cared for because of her. That there were too many stories to tell them all, and that the attendees would laugh in remembering me. That at my funeral, there is joy because this faithful servant, after a long and hard toil, has gone home to rest with her Father.

But also, I hope that even then, everyone would wear a little more pink.