My dearest friend, Debbie passed away in February. On Friday, we, her friends and family attended her funeral. On Saturday, her Celebration of Life. On Saturday, I read a tribute I had written for her. I have never been one for public speaking but for all she has done for and given me, it was truly the least I could do in return for my beloved friend. I can hardly even begin to describe what a beautiful human being Debbie was and what a gift of joy she has brought to every person she has ever met. A light went out in the world when she left us but Heaven must be an even happier place. And probably quite a lot louder too! Here is my tribute from Saturday:
I heard a quotation the other day that said:
“Nobody ever dies. Because you’re going to live inside everybody who ever knew you, everyone you ever touched, no matter how little. You’re never going to die because you were loved. Because you loved. You’re going to live forever. We all will.”
Ghost Whisperer ‘Implosion’ written by John Gray
Being Debbie’s friend was one of the biggest honours of my life. Standing here now, heartbroken, as we all are, I know I am just one of many, many people whose life she enriched. To know we were loved by someone as wonderful as her is a real gift.
I met Debbie when I was a frightened seventeen year old. I’d never met a lesbian before. I’d certainly never met a gay Christian before. But from the moment we met, I was welcomed into her life, into her family and into the church we all built and nurtured together for so many years.
The first time I ever went to a gay bar was with Debbie and her family, including her daughter, Laura and incredible Mum, who was eighty at the time. It probably isn’t everyone’s first experience of going to a gay bar but it was mine and it was definitely unique. And I learnt very quickly that Debbie always did things just a little bit differently. We’ve been friends for more than twenty years and we have definitely done some random things together.
There was the time that we wanted to rent a particular building for the church so she got us all together to lay hands on it and pray but not during a quiet time, instead while all the shoppers were walking past us on the high street!
There was the time that I was in the car with Debbie and Ruth who suddenly screeched, “Debbie, stop!” as she was inching forwards.
“I’m just encouraging them!” Debbie insisted of the car ahead of her.
“You can’t encourage them at a red light, Debbie!” I squeaked from the back.
Then of course, there was the time Deb and Ruth packed the car up so much for a holiday in Devon that Yennifer and I were squashed against each of the back windows with a wheelchair in between us! We were all singing so enthusiastically that Debbie missed the turn off. Twice.
Debbie had this amazing ability to draw people into her warmth so instantly. The love and pride she found in others was never so evident than in how much she loved being a Mum to Em. From the very first day we met, I knew I could trust her. I could tell her absolutely anything. Nothing could shock her. She never judged. Kindness radiated from her. I was so new to Christianity when we first met that I used to bombard her with questions every week and she answered every single one of them, never losing patience with me. When I think about Debbie, I always think about her smiling. Shining. Or calling me a donut if I’ve done something daft!
In twenty one years, we saw each other go through a lot. Essentially, she watched me grow up – from that frightened seventeen year old, through University and beyond. She supported me through everything – the good and the bad. She was the Celebrant at mine and Caz’s wedding and she did the most amazing job. She was our first and only choice.
Debbie’s calling to be a pastor was so clear. And when she became a Chaplain, it was clearer still. That was in the making twenty years ago, when I watched her conduct her beautiful mother’s funeral. Three years later, she did the same for her sister, Pam. She was so incredibly brave. Three years after that, my Dad died. Debbie stepped forward to take his funeral and my Mum and my family and I couldn’t have asked for more love and care and support at such a desperate and devastating time.
My Dad’s Mum is deaf and after the service, she said, “Who was that vicar? It was like she was talking directly to me! I could hear every word!”
I said, “Nan, that’s Debbie! My friend! She was talking directly to you!”
I found Debbie and Nan together a little later. Nan, a very proud woman, was crying in her arms. I will never know what was said between them but even now, with Nan having dementia, she always remembers Debbie and the ‘kind, perfect words’ she said to her after the funeral.
I have watched Debbie fight cancer time and again with bravery, grace, strength and humour. I have been so in awe of her every single day. When we knew this was the last fight, my wife, Caz and I took her to London for an all expenses paid trip to see the Tina Turner Musical, as she was so desperate to see it. We spoilt her all day, apart from a huge parade thwarting our plan and blocking all the streets from the train station to the theatre where we had intended to get a taxi so she didn’t have to walk. In true Debbie style, she took my arm so I could help her get across the street and we approached some paramedics.
She said, “Okay, here’s the situation. I’ve only got a few months left to live. My friends have brought me to see this musical and we’re going to miss it. Please, is there anything you can do?”
The next thing we knew, we were arriving at the theatre in an ambulance! And it was one of the most special days ever.
So, with all these incredible memories we all have of Debbie – this amazing, funny, kind, talented, brave, compassionate woman – memories that we will all share with each other and pass on and on for years to come – I truly believe that she will live forever.
Just Keep Swimming 