Where Did She Go?

I met Susan Edith Mosier in 1969 at Kingsway College. She was fifteen, I was sixteen and we dated steadily for the next three years. Among our friends there are a number, I’m sure, who can recall this budding romance. With all the functions and activities, choir practices and tours, there was scarcely enough time for school and classes. We were together as much as possible and three years later, in 1972, we made a lifetime commitment to each other as we took our vows in marriage.

There were many who, out of love, expressed their concern that we were much too young to be making such a commitment and they feared that it would not last. Ours was not anywhere close to being a perfect union and many times (especially in the earlier years) we went through times when we thought it might not last. Both of us did and said things, at times, that we would later regret but through the fights and the make-ups, through the good times and bad we always chose to remain together and our love reached a depth I couldn’t have imagined as a 16 year old kid.

Just a very short time ago, on January 5, 2012, we had to say our final good-bye as cancer took her life and robbed her of her of any remaining years. Susan fought hard with much courage and dignity but the disease was aggressive and cruel. Many friends and family fought the battle with her and she drew strength from all who lent it through their prayer, kind thoughts and encouraging comments and wishes. While the cancer ultimately proved fatal, death is not - and cannot be – the final victor. While I miss her now (terribly) I plan on someday catching up with her once again.

As I sit and ponder all this and what has transpired over the past four months, I’m filled with a number of questions and a variety of conflicting raw emotions. I feel pain and sorrow, as my eyes repeatedly fill with tears. But I am also able to laugh with friends as we recall some of the humorous moments we all shared with Susan. When I see the expressions of love from so many people who knew her, I am humbled and grateful. As I begin to realize that God’s love for Susan is even greater than my love for her and the love of all her friends combined, I begin to experience a sense of comfort and peace.

Susan had fifty-eight years between her very first breath and her very last breath. When I was standing at her side, after she was gone, I thought about those 58 years. Something had been completed that day; she had written the final chapter in the book of Susan. I know how profoundly she had touched me and my life, as she lived that book, and I know from the testimony of many others how she had touched them. When talking with friends and family, I realize there are special chapters which she shared with them that I never knew – for they were not meant for me – and I begin to get a glimpse of just how complex a person she really was. That which she shared with me over a period of 42 years was volumes…and yet she was so much more than that; her life and work went so much further.

During the last few months of her journey she focused mostly on Danny and me – to prepare us for when she was gone. She decided she would battle the cancer for as long as she could but she also knew her time was short and she decided she wasn’t going to waste any of it by getting negative, angry or complaining. She said she wanted to use her remaining time being with and enjoying her family as much as possible. She took time and spent valuable energy teaching us and making sure we could carry on the various necessary household tasks that, up till then, she had always done. She taught us how to cook and prepare various meals. Many a conversation began with, “When I’m gone, you and Dan will need to …”

On December 14, after spending a week in hospital, Sue was due for discharge home. She had gotten very ill that morning and so the doctor decided to keep her in hospital for an extra day and discharge her on December 15 (her birthday). That evening when I went to visit her, I discovered there was to be a Christmas celebration in the main cafeteria. They were going to be lighting the lights, welcoming the Christmas season and several groups were going to put on a small concert. Susan felt well enough to go and so she got her walker and off to the cafeteria we went. I didn’t know then that I would only have 22 more days with her.

One of the groups at the concert was a women’s choir and they sang, “Song For A Winters Night” by Gordon Lightfoot, as sung by Sara McLachlan. As they were singing, Susan tucked her arm in mine and began to hold tightly. I looked at her and saw she was sobbing and her face was wet with tears. I asked her if she was alright – did she need to go back to the ward? She said no, that she was OK … she said, “It’s the song, I know the song.”

I’ll end this here with the words of that song to follow. Susan’s loving husband, Roger Hild


Song For A Winters Night - by Gordon Lightfoot
“The lamp is burning low upon my table top
snow is softly falling
the air is still in the silence of my room
I hear your voice softly calling

If I could only have you near
to breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
on this winters night with you

Smoke is rising in the shadows overhead
my glass is almost empty
I read again between the lines upon each page,
the words of love you sent me

If I could know within my heart
that you were lonely too
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
on this winters night with you

The Fire is dying my lamp is growing dim
shades of night are lifting
morning light steals across my window pane
where webs of snow are drifting

If I could only have you near
to breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
on this winters night with you
And you'll be once again with me”