Connie Blankenbuehler Mavroudis

If, this past Friday morning, you’ve noticed that a dark cloud darkened the sky it was because the source of my shining light was torn from my soul. It left this earthly world of pain for a world where pain has lost its existence and need not be endured. She entered my life as she did others; gently, sweetly, unpretentiously; always giving, reluctant to receive. No wake followed her stride. She moved softly, lest she disturb; her presence never ever chaffing. She was a mirror upon which one’s “best” was reflected. As a teacher, she unraveled the unfathomable complexities of nature’s hidden secrets; she offered methods that became keys to unlocking mysteries of the unknown, and most of all she offered undiminishing care, trust and love. Her beautiful and powerful operatic voice echoed in many of God’s homes, pleasing awaiting ears and yearning hearts. There was glory in her voice and promise in the words. She will be missed but not forgotten. Her singing in hymns will always echo in the sanctuary of our hearts. Many will hear: all who have known her. When a butterfly appears to announce the coming of spring, I will miss her: when the hot summer sun soothes the aching of my arthritis joints, I will miss her. When the energetic wind of fall dances with the colorful leaves, I will miss her. When the first frost appears and I hurry to the sanctuary hurrying to the warmth of our empty home, I will miss her. When I hear the melodies of birds serenading, I will ask of them if they are joyful or sad songs; did they lose or find their soulmate? I will miss her at sunrise and I will miss her at sunset: and most of all, I will miss her when my head meets the pillow and my arm aimlessly searches for her in the barren space. And my best friend, I will miss you most of all. I will live with the longing prayer of seeing you once again. Goodbye my love. Dear God don’t let it be too long.