Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Julie Montes - You Will Be Missed, Friend.

I don't do many memory posts (I believe this is my third one ever) on this blog, but after the recent
death of a cyster that I spent plenty of time with roaming the halls of University Medical Center, I felt compelled to. And it's funny, I don't feel compelled to because I think it will make any difference in her now awesome life, I'm not so sure she'll read it, but I'm doing it for me. Maybe that's why we all do it though? I don't know. I wasn't planning on writing about her or her death until about 3 minutes ago when this overwhelming feeling came over me that I needed to say something. I needed to write down what I remembered of her and needed to put to paper the different things about her that are currently making me smile.

Julie Montes was one of the softest, most gentle-hearted and loving people that I'm come to know within the walls of the hospital I've been going to my whole life. We saw each other very infrequently outside of those walls, but within them, we always connected. Conversation never waned, and although I hated seeing her under those circumstances, I was always eager to stop by her room for a chat when I saw her name on the "big board".

The first thing I noticed about Julie every time that I saw her was her eyes (I'm sure I'm not alone in this). It wasn't because of the physical presence or look of her eyes though, but because her eyes always told her story. You could see how she was feeling, or what emotion she was either exuding or holding back just by looking at her eyes. And when I picture her eyes now, I see a smile. Even though it was rare that I saw her smile, sense it was usually covered by a mask, I saw her smile through her eyes. She smiled a lot. She giggled often. Being in her presence always made me feel happy. That's just who she was.

I don't mourn her death though. My heart certainly breaks for her husband, friends and family she left behind, but I know that we are all currently celebrating the life she lived and more importantly, the life she lives now. Like me, Julie was a servant of Jesus Christ. We had many wonderful conversations about our mutual faith and both trusted the Lord fully with what He wanted to do with our lives. Although Julie was called Home much earlier than any of us wanted, her Father wanted her back. She was ready to go.

So Julie, tell Dad I said hello, and if you could, put in a word for me that I'm not quite ready yet. Thanks. You will be missed....but I will see you again, friend.