Knocked down, but not out!

I was reminded of Psalm 42 this week, the part where the psalmist cries out that all God's "waves and breakers" have poured over him.

Why, my soul, are you downcast?
Why so disturbed within me?...
My soul is downcast within me;
therefore I will remember you...
Deep calls to deep
in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
have swept over me.
(vv. 5-7)

This week I was feeling more and more sad, Sabine noticed it, my daughters who had begun to assemble for Thanksgiving saw it, too.  This is not the best place for a primary caregiver to be.  I owed Sabine more than trying to struggle with this by myself.

I think it was not only Matt's death, but also knowing that Sabine's cancer was back that was the final blow.

So, yesterday afternoon, after we had met with Sabine's oncologist, I decided to take action and "practice what I preached."  I walked into the mental health intake wing at the Veteran's Hospital in Madison and checked in for an evaluation.  They confirmed what I thought was going on -- I had enough more than enough "waves and breakers" roll over me during the past three years: Granddaughter Allison's death, Sabine's cancer diagnosis, her stem cell transplant, Matt's suicide, and now Sabine's cancer flaring up again.  I was beginning to suffer from depression.

If this had happened twenty years ago I might have resisted going to a therapist.  I don't have as many pretensions now as I did then and thankfully God led my heart to pursue what I knew needed to be done and made me a wiser man.

At the mental health unit, I met with a therapist and psychiatrist and we decided that I would start individual "one on one," weekly therapy for my symptoms (and not to begin drug therapy right now).  Instead, we would check on how the therapy and my sadness was progressing.

Depression was something I did not expect.  But thankfully I am at a place in my life that I know what my priorities are and what I need to do to keep myself on my own two feet.

This is a big step for me.  But I am confident that it was the right thing to do and thankful that I did not more strongly deny and resist it (I did for a couple of days -- "I can get through this!").

Psalm 42 ends with this note of encouragement.  It is advice I will take.

Put your hope in God,

for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.

To that I say, AMEN.

God is my hope and my salvation!

My journey continues...

Just when you think it's getting better...

There are good days... times when I feel I am moving forward, healing, moving out of daily grieving, out of the anger, the sense of loss and guilt -- and then it happens... again.  Why does this surprise me?  In my head, I know this is part of the process... I read all about it in seminary!  But my heart seems to have forgotten.

Matt had been the repository of a set of hundred of family slides from the 1970s through 80s.  Hundreds of them... he kept them with him despite his ups and downs.  His brother and I found the slides in his room after his death.  He has now digitalized them and put them online so that we all can see them.

It started out just fine.  I was looking forward to seeing this historical account of our family in its early years.  I thought about the years we spend houseboating on the Mississippi River... camping... bicycle racing on the Kenosha track and racing on midwestern roads.  And in winter, cross-country ski racing and the Birekbeiner.

There were family trips to Toronto and  Niagra Falls and other places... family get-togethers... and then the feelings, the emotions, came rolling over me...  anger, loss, blame, grief -- you name it.  Chest-tightening stuff.

And then the realization that I might not have much time left with Sabine.  That another loss was looming on my horizon.  The stem cell transplant is not holding... her "numbers" are going up...

I realized that when this happend to other stem cell recipients in our support group it has been the start of a two-year fatal crash.

One side of me says that we are making great strides in cancer research and treatment protocols (that's my head), but my heart aches, even as I write this I feel that tightening in my chest agian, the start of tears...

The holidays are coming up... Thanksgiving and then Christmas.  They will be different in so many ways this year.  I realize that out of Matt's death has come the blessing of healing and restoration in the Couper family (the sweetness mixed in with our grief). 

I know I need to keep myself healthy and upbeat as Sabine's "battle buddy."  I need to be fully present for her.

The range of emotions I am experiencing with these two events almost become ovewhelming.  Yet I am committed to going through this (not around it only to revisit at a future date and time). 

Going through this will not be easy nor do I know how long it will take.  I sense God's presence with me, in my life and in the lives of my close friends.

My suicide support group meets again tonight.  I think I need to be there even though family members are assembling at the farm for Thanksgiving.  I also am realizing I may need more intense "one on one" help. 

Prayer has become life-giving... wandering the desert, lost and thirsty, I find an oasis with clean, fresh spring-water.  I am reminded of Psalm 107:

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good;

his love endures forever. ..

Some wandered in desert wastelands,

finding no way to a city where they could settle.

They were hungry and thirsty,

and their lives ebbed away.

Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble,

and he delivered them from their distress.

The Power of Story

The power of a story, of a narrative, is that it can become our story and connect us as a people who all find ourselves on the same journey.  For example, I often find comfort in the great biblical stories: Job's faithfulness in the midst of great loss, how God chose Jacob, a trickster and deceiver, and also David, who cheated and killed Bathsheba's husband, but God knew that David was a man after God's own heart.  God certainly loves to qualify the unqualified!

David: shepherd, poet, warrior, and leader -- a God-seeker.  Last week I was thinking about my name and my namesake.  I was thinking about the story of my life and my family and this flowed from my pen:

__________________________________

THE STORY OF THE HOUSE OF DAVID

This is a story about David and his House. It is not about the David of the Bible, but it is also not too unlike his story either. From the beginning, David was blessed by God because God gave him many things and prospered him in his life. David knew God, but not personally; he only knew “about” God. David either forgot or ignored God during most of his life. Yet God still blessed David, prospered his House with beautiful and talented children and wives because God had a plan for David. And David, remembering God, brought each child to the temple were they were baptized and dedicated to God just like the parents of David and his wives had been in the past.


While David pursued his career, grew his family, God continued to pour out more of his blessings and protection upon David and his House because God wanted David to know him. David became a great leader and was acclaimed among his peers.


On day trouble came to the House of David; internal chaos and brokenness reigned between his wives and children. David did not know what to do. He did not ask God for help. And so the division continued and all were injured in some way -- including David. The House of David was now broken as hurt and blame and anger continued to reign.


God gave David another wife. His third wife was a loving tower of strength, a gifted warrior-woman who respected and encouraged David. Three more children were added into the family – now there were nine. Still David went about his life without God but continued to mourn his broken House. But God’s plan was now being unveiled as he showed David wisdom. God showed David his everlasting love and his plan for David. David learned how to become a godly husband and father. After many years as a warrior and faithful husband, David retired to the priestly life and became a man singularly after God’s heart – a man who prayed to God sought to deeply know God. So God revealed to David that he was more than the “beloved” man he thought he was (David thought his name only meant “beloved” in Hebrew and so God revealed to him that his name was “beloved of God.” And then God blessed him even more abundantly.


Now David was in his seventy-third year and the one gift that David really wanted was withheld from him – a restored House. And so David continued to pray each day for God to heal and restore his family; to bring the broken House of David together. Even though his third wife loved and consoled him, and many of his children loved and respected him, he still grieved for many of them were apart.


Then one day, a great tragedy struck the House of David. Matthew, who was a son, and father of two daughters grieving his broken family, took his own life. The House of David was now in great grief. And David cried out to God, “O God, help me to heal and restore this House and my children, I can do nothing, nor can any of us survive our broken hearts without you!”


And so the Lord God heard David. He looked down on him and his great grief and had compassion on him and his House and answered his prayer. And on the day that the House of David came together to mourn and remember Matthew, the Spirit of the Lord God came across the hills and fields as a warm October wind and passed over and touched each member of the House of David assembled on that hill called Restoration. And this began the healing that would one day fully restore the House of David, his children and his children’s children.


And David was exceedingly glad, praising God, and God’s love and grace. Then God said to David, “I am the LORD, your God, and a God who restores to the faithful that which was destroyed. What the locusts devour, I restore!”

And so the House of David continues its journey toward restoration and healing – even to the fourth generation -- and beyond. Thanks be to God!

Is it for sale?

I saw this on Interstate 94 on the way to Milwaukee near Oconomowoc,  I am sure the cross is not for sale (or is it?), but, perhaps, the automobile next to it.  But this certainly brought a lot of things to my mind.  In our self-centered, money-loving society, why not sell the Cross?  After all, isn't everything for sale in our society?

Slowly moving forward

I had lunch yesterday with a man who told me that he had suffered the death of his wife from cancer.  We both started to tear up.  "When did it happen?", I asked.  "Fifteen years ago..." was the answer.

I have come to learn that our grief stays with us.  Never leaves us.  Things will never be the same again but they can be -- and that new "being" can become a new "normal" -- but the grief is something not cast off -- it will be a constant companion.  And in his case, even when he remarried eight years afterwards.

He told me that he was surprised that his grief came to the surface as fast as it did.  He had not thought about it for some time -- and now here it is -- right there in jfront of us!

I am approaching the holidays of Thanksgiving and Christmas with a certain amount of trepidation.  This year I don't feel the excitement I usually feel at this time of year.  It will be different this year.

Daughter Yumi is back in Afghanistan after her bereavement leave.  God-willing, she will return in February or March when her unit's tour ends.  Fear and grief are closely related.

This morning on public radio's "Story Corps" there was an account from Vietnam.  The soldier telling the story was assigned to a "graves registration unit" which meant he processed the bodies of soldiers who were killed in action.  He said he didn't have nightmares about it -- just "day-mares" in which he thinks and grieves about those young men every day; even after nearly forty years have passed.

I don't think we know much about grief except that it happens and it happens in different ways to different people.  I had a dream last night in which all my anger came pouring out about Matthew's death and toward a person I believe contributed to his death.  It was ugly and angry.  And yet in my mind I know that going the "blame-route" will not help me nor anyone else in the family.  I can't go there and I find myself refusing to do so (except strangely in a dream?).

Thanksgiving and Christmas are coming.  They are times for family -- for the living, those of us left behind to heal and for this family to continue its path of restoration.  This morning Psalm 132 was scheduled to be read during my meditations.  The first verse struck me -- it was my prayer: "O God, remember David, remember all his troubles!"

That's my prayer, God.  Remember my troubles -- as I remember you, my heart for you, and your promises to me and others who remain faithful in spite of our troubles!

Praying, processing, proceeding

I was thinking today (again) about what God is showing me through this present tragedy. Not that God in any way DID this, but seeing this tragedy occurred, what and where is the learning? Is this not a reasonable question? Perhaps this is the best way to ultimately process the events that happen in our lives; that deep within is great spiritual teaching – and I need to be open to it.


Elisabeth Kubler-Ross identified “five stages of grief” in her 1969 book, On Death and Dying. It bears reviewing again. She identified five discrete stages in which people deal with grief and tragedy:

Stage 1: Denial – "I feel fine."; "This can't be happening."

Stage 2: Anger – "Why me? It's not fair!"

Stage 3: Bargaining – "Just let me live to see my children graduate."; "I'll do anything for a few more years."

Stage 4: Depression – "I'm so sad, why bother with anything?"; "I'm going to die... What's the point?"

Stage 5: Acceptance – "It's going to be okay."; "I can't fight it, I may as well prepare for it."

Kubler-Ross originally applied these stages to people suffering from terminal illness, later she applied it to any form of catastrophic personal loss (job, income, freedom) or significant life events such as the death of a loved one, divorce, drug addiction, the onset of a disease or chronic illness. She said these steps do not necessarily come in the order noted above, nor are all steps experienced by all patients, though she stated a person will always experience at least two of them.

My experience with grief is that these feelings/emotions are even more complicated and encompassing and in the instance of a suicide of a loved one, even more so. As I find myself slowing moving forward a variety of feelings come and go. It is like a large wheel going down the road: anger, blame, sadness, relief, avoidance (denial), deep grieving (crying), and (from time to time) a hint of acceptance. Each time one of these emotions “hit the road” they are experienced again -- and these continue, some more, some less, as I move forward.

Feelings (especially among us men) are strange phenomena. We have avoided and suppressed them for most of our life and now as we begin to mature (some of us earlier than others) we are able to identify them, talk about them with our loved ones. From this, we find comfort in not having to stuff/eat them as we have done for so many years.

For the past two years, I have been involved with the powerful “One Year to Live” men’s retreats sponsored by the Lutheran Men in Ministry. It has been a powerful experience for me as I have learned to connect with and give to, and receive strength from, other men.

I remember hearing a story about one men’s group that did what they called “home invasions.” A home invasion is men supporting other men who have suffered loss, tragedy, or other life-shaking events. One story went like this: upon reading in the newspaper that a man in their community had just announced he was a homosexual, his heterosexual male friends showed up at his house -- unannounced. Each man brought a ball with him. Upon receiving permission to come inside, they each presented the man with a ball as a symbol of the fact that to do what this man had done “took a lot of balls!” To me, this was a good example of men supporting other men.

So I have been thinking this week. what did I expect from my male friends? Some called me on the phone to give me love, support and prayers; others sent cards offering to help in any way they could – just call.

On one hand, I was emotionally “raw” after coming back from Los Angeles. All I wanted to do was spend time alone with Sabine and get prepared for the memorial service that was only a few days away. I don’t think I would have wanted a number of my close friends to make a “home invasion,” but did I?

This morning on my walk, I started thinking about this. I shared it with Sabine and she said that if I wanted a bunch of my male friends to come over, talk and pray with me, I should ask them. True. But should I have to ask? One side of me says, yes. If you want something ask for it. Another side says, no, my friends should automatically be there for me without my asking.

So these are some feelings I am processing. I want to be left alone to “lick my wounds” with God (and Sabine) and yet (at the same time?) I expect some continuity from the relationships I have developed with other Christian men over the past two years as a result of those powerful men’s retreats in which I participated.

But maybe this is my learning. I know so much more about loss grief and suicide. If one of my friends went through this, I would act far beyond what I thought was “appropriate” and “Christian” knowing what I know today.

There, I have it. Each one of us has a great capacity to learn -- even when experiencing one of life’s deepest tragedies! It could almost be a “self-giving/self-pouring out” experience – a witness -- in which the power of God is demonstrated to those around us.

Thanks for “listening.” And may God bless your journey, too.

Entering the Second Month





  One of the things I have learned since the suicide is the importance of family and friends.  As I enter into the second month of my grief, I find that talking to family and close friends is a most helpful exercise.  Since that tragic day, I sense that my children have come closer to each other and have recognized each other's strength and uniqueness.  We have been apart too long and now the rays of love, so prominent during that miraculous liturgy on Restoration Point, are now connecting and touching each one of us.

Time together is the cement that bonds us as we process our feelings, help one another, and remember that this will not be the last tragedy to touch us.  Life is a process of negotiating the ups and downs of our journeys and coming out the other end with new insight, new strengthen, and a growing love.

As I enter the second month, I sense it is becoming a bit easier -- a feel less "on edge," cry less frequently, and am sleeping a bit better.  I know this is not a linear but a rolling, circular progression.  I am aware that all this could change, but, nevertheless, my movement will be essentially forward...

Almost a month has passed...

Last night I attended a "survivors of suicide" group at Dane County Mental Health. Heading there, I felt fairly solid... I was praying, processing, and, I thought, proceeding.

When I arrived I was warmly greeted and entered a room that soon filled up with about 15 people. As the group did a "check in" I felt that now-familiar deep feeling of grief starting to build up again.

By the time it was my turn I could hardly speak. "It's been nearly a month now..." was all I could gasp. My grief was still raw -- like a deep wound within me.

But thankfully I was in familiar territory. Everyone around me knew the pain I was feeling... some members of the group had been coming here for years... often after a child or grandchild had taken their life. Many of them were still experiencing the raw pain of a family suicide.

I feel like a person who has not only been shot, but been "machined gunned!" It has been a series of emotional wounds from my grandaughter Allison's death in a traffic accident three years ago, to Sabine's cancer diagnosis, chemotherapy and the stem cell transplant, my daughter Yumi's deployment to Afghanistan, Sabine's cancer flaring up earlier this summer and now Matt's suicide... How much more, Lord?  I am remembering your promise of not sending me more than I can bear...  I hold you to it, God!!

I don't want to feel like another Job (well, I don't because he seemed never to get angry at what was happening to him) but Job didn't have a suicide on top of everything else!  Maybe that would have made him angry!

My sense is that these events are going to take me a long time to recover. And, as I mentioned to Sabine this morning during our walk, I will not rule out one-on-one counselling on top of all the other prayer and support I feel from friends and family.  Anything to get through this.

Sabine tells me she thinks she is better able to handle this because she knows she has little time left and cannot afford to spend it in grief or anger.  Matt had a choice.  It was not an accident and his choice, no matter how we see it, has now brought peace to a most troubled life.

So, I try and practice my preaching: to pray, process, and proceed. But it is easier said than done. It is so easy to get stuck in anger (or as one person said last night, it's not anger, but RAGE!) and, yes, blame.  I can easily shift into the blame-game.  There is plenty of blame to go around but all it will do is drag me down into that pit.  The old saying is that you should never wrestle with a pig because you both get dirty yet the pig loves it!  Still blame has a sweet taste to it...

All of us who are struggling with a family suicide are surrounded and buffeted by all these feelings -- anger, rage, blame, sorrow, sadness, guilt, "what ifs," and deep, gnawing grief. We name it. We talk about it. Through this we are supported and loved. We lick our wounds... we go forward... even if ever so slowly.

The Healing Journey

A couple of "learnings"...

Grief is a tiring process. I find myself suddenly getting tired. After supervising Sabine's dialysis in the morning, I find that I look forward to a nap just to get through the day. Sleep at night is often a challenge. As grief has a rainbow of 24 hour emotions ranging from deep sadness to some nasty anger. Prayer and my wife, Sabine, are my sustenance. However, I have decided to join a "suicide survivors" group next week in Madison to help me negotiate this "journey."

I also find help in going through the liturgy we used on October 9th. Thankfully, we have about 300 photos from that wonderful event and putting them into a web album "movie" on YouTube has also been both helpful and healing. You can see photos taken that weekend at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ahr6Vy84krs

The 20th Day

I was in public service for over 30 years.  The standard for "bereavement leave" is three days.  Thinking about this simply stunned me.  On the police department I expected my employees to return back to work in three days after the death of a parent, spouse, or child?  Were we nuts?  And are employers nuts today to continue this practice?

It is now twenty days after my son, Matthew, died.  I am only now barely emerging from the "valley of the shadow of death."  I have found this grief to be extremely tiring -- about all I can do it focus to get through Sabine's morning dialysis.  I would identify myself as being fragile and raw.

On Sunday, I was able to return to St Peter's.  I even got through my sermon without breaking down.  That's an improvement!  My congregation was a lifeline -- they prayed for use, brought us food, bedding for guests and even a camping trailer!

This Sunday I was able to share with them how we can survive these cataclysmic events in our lives through an ongoing process of praying, processing, and progressing -- moving forward step by step.  This not only applies to a death in a family but also to a divorce, job less or severe illness.  It is about loss and loss takes time to heal.

This week I am taking steps to move slightly forward.  I belong to a care-givers support group at Gilda's Club in Madison.  I know I need more.  So, I have decided to join a suicide support group that meets twice a month.  I am committed not to bury all the feelings that surround a suicide and to enter into this process not only for my own healing, but also to learn more about grief and loss in order to help others.

That is our journey -- our spiritual journey -- as human persons whether or not one believes in God, the hereafter, or not.

Stay tuned for more reports from the front line.

Moving into and through Grief

It is now 16 days since my son, Matt, died.  What sustains me? How am I processing this enormous grief? It is a three-step process for me – Praying, Processing, Proceeding. It is an on-going process and not sequential. I pray. I am covered in prayer by my friends. I process. What am I feeling? I give it voice (through these blogs). I talk and I weep. Through prayer and processing, I move forward – the step forward into life not holding on the past but also looking forward to the future. From great evil, great pain and despair, God can make good come of it. I know this to be true.

And I also find sustenance in God’s Word; especially Paul’s Letter to the Romans:

“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us… We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time… But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has?... In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express… And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him… What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us?...


“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?... For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:21 ff).

This is what sustains me.

I hold God to his promises… I pray. I process. I proceed.

The Memorial Service

October 9, 2010 – Matt’s Memorial Service

Okay, here goes! How can describe this day and the days leading up to it and the days following? When I asked my wife, Sabine, how she would describe the day on a scale of one to ten, she said, “Twenty!” And I agree!

Family members began to arrive on Thursday and continue to Saturday and some stayed through the next week. On Friday, the massive “Matthew stone” arrived from the quarry and stone-carvers shop after son, Peter, and grandson, Ben, went to Galena, IL and picked it up in my pickup truck. It was then moved to the top of the hill in back of our farmhouse we now call “Restoration Point.” Thankfully, our friends at the hardware store in Mazomanie offered to provide a forklift to maneuver the ½ ton stone into place.

Thursday afternoon found a number of family members in our screen house reading letters of sympathy and support. I was only good for one round before I had to adjourn. Grief comes that way upon us, suddenly, often in unsuspecting times and places.

The liturgy began on Saturday just after noon with a fellowship meal brought to our farm by our wonderful parishioners at St Peter’s in North Lake. The day was spectacular: sunny, temperature in the 80s, and vibrant fall coloring in our woods. Our friends, Andy and Kathy, brought a car full of food and treats! What a wonderful way to begin with this time for food, fellowship, connection, and story-telling.

I asked my dear friend, Jeff, to be the worship leader. Jeff and I have known each other since I got out of seminary and he was my pastoral education teacher when I did a year chaplain residency at Meriter Hospital where he is the director of spiritual care. Jeff and his wife, Bonnie, live down the road from us and we do a lot of biking together in the rolling hills which surround us.

At 2:30 we all assembled on the path which winds up to Restoration Point. Jeff made the following remarks to us: “Your steps toward healing and restoration are ones you don’t need to make alone. Look around you, go ahead. You are a family, combined and complex… We know Matt felt peace here, for this is where he wanted his final resting place to be. Today’s steps up this hill are symbolic of your journey toward healing and restoration. It may take a lifetime to figure out what good may come out of what appears to be so bad. It is a journey that is not helped by going it alone, laughing in denial, or resigning in despair. It begins today from the place we are standing now. Let us walk this path to Restoration Point where Matt’s ashes will eventually be spread with the ashes of today’s fire. Let us make this walk in silence.”

And so we began the 30 minute walk up the hill. When we neared the top, we met those who needed assistance and then we all processed the rest of the way up the path with items for the Table: flowers, candles, a large cross, a white tablecloth, photos of Matt, and bread, wine, and chalice.

When we arrived on top, we set the Table and I anointed the palm of each person as they entered the clearing which contained Matt’s stone. The holy oil I used was the same oil I had used to anoint Matt’s body in Los Angeles just a few days before. We sat on blankets that encircled the stone and Table. Michael lit the ceremonial fire and Jeff prayed an opening prayer for our family – asking God to heal us in our grief, that we would not be overwhelmed by grief but have confidence in God’s goodness and strength in the days to come.

Tammy read the first lesson from scripture: 1 John 4:7-21, “Love is from God… If we love one another, God lives in us and his love is perfected in us…” Then Karl read the second lesson which was from 1st Corinthians 13:1-13, “Love is… patient… kind… not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude… does not insist on its own way… is not irritable or resentful… does not rejoice in wrongdoing… but rejoices in truth.”

Then most of us shared the letters we were asked earlier in the week to write to Matt. Some of us were able to read them before we cast them into the fire. Others (like me) simply were not able to read them out loud. In my case, Jeff read my letter to Matt:

(If you wish to view a copy of this letter, please contact me)
After finishing our letters, we cast them into the fire where their ashes would be mixed with Matt’s ashes and spread on this ground – this “Restoration Point” which is both a piece of land, but also a point of beginning in our lives together.

When we were all finished, we blessed the bread and wine, broke the bread and said the Lord’s Prayer together. Bread and wine were passed and shared: “Receive this bread/wine in love.” An Agape Meal of forgiveness, healing, restoration and love.

We concluded with a departing prayer. The same one I had used after anointing Matt’s body:

“Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant Matthew. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive him into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light. Amen.”

We then concluded with a Celtic blessing:

“O Christ of the poor and the yearning,

kindle my heart within.

A flame of love for my neighbor,

for my foe, for my friend,

for my kindred all.”

Next we formed a “Circle of Love” around Matt’s stone and passed love through a hand-squeeze up one arm, into our heart, and out the other arm. Love was passed around this circle to each one of us.

“There is an end, and a new beginning.”

We were invited to leave the hill when we felt ready. Most of us stayed on the hill, taking family pictures, hugging, laughing… then crying… then laughing again. Then some of us sat in silence and slowly moved down the hill.

It is Sabine and my plan that this 20 acre parcel of land, with access off a nearby township road, be kept in the Couper family – for perpetuity – as a place for memorials, celebrations, visitations and recreation – to be a point of restoration.

Pictures of the memorial liturgy can be seen at: http://picasaweb.google.com/davidccouper/MattSMemorialAlbum?authkey=Gv1sRgCPeGo5zJroWsUQ#

As for me, I am beginning to heal. This is a great grief but it is somehow lessened by being family – finally after years of pain and separation.

My hope and love are beyond measure.

Matt is happy as God holds all of us in the palm of his hand.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The Obituary

Matthew Couper, age 42, died unexpectedly at his home in Los Angeles on September 29, 2010. He was born in Minneapolis, MN on June 13, 1968 and was graduated from Madison (WI) Memorial High School.

Matthew was preceded in death by his grandparents, Jack and Elsa Couper and Leroy and Sally Kugler, and niece Allison Couper.

He is survived by his two daughters whom he deeply loved, Heather of Kawkawlin, MI and Gracie of San Diego, his father and step-mother, David C. Couper and Sabine Lobitz, his mother and step-father, Julie (Kugler) and Donald Manter, brothers Peter (Tamara), Michael, Joshua Couper, and Charley Manter; sisters Catherine Hubbard, Sarah Ineichen, Jennifer (Karl) Almquist, Sumi (Scott Shimek) and Yumi Couper, along with numerous aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews.

A family memorial service and rite of Christian burial will be held on the Couper farm near Blue Mounds, WI on October 9, 2010, officiated by the Rev. Jeffrey Billerbeck.

“’A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping…

There is hope for your future,’ declares the LORD, ‘your children will

return to their own land.’”

(Jeremiah 31:15, 17)

Matt's Memorial Service

It is now Monday morning.  Most of the family have returned home.  The memorial service for Matt on Saturday afternoon -- a warm, bright fall day in the 80s -- was "over the top."  By far, the best memorial, healing, restoration service I have ever witness or presided over in my 15 years of ministry!  God blessed us -- everyone!

Pictures and description will be forthcoming.

God, you are powerful and I deeply thank you on behalf of my family...