Dandelion Breaths

Carrie Danyelle Clevenger's Eulogy for her big sister Cynthia Dawn Thank you all for being here today to celebrate the life of Cynthia Dawn Clevenger. For those of you who don’t know, I am Dawn’s little sister, Carrie. It is my honor to stand here today and tell you a little bit about my big sister. Some things you will remember and some things you never knew about her. How do you begin to summarize the life of someone under 5 minutes? Especially someone you’ve never known a day without until recently. Well, I’ll start with February 21, 1974 when Dawn was born to our parents, Charlie and Susie. From what I was told, Dawn was quick to learn all things from talking to walking. She was quite the talker, picking up words and full sentences well beyond that of the typical toddler. And her reasoning skills were a bit freakishly adult-like. One of my favorite stories is how our mom had to make a controlled effort to refer to our dad as Dad or Daddy any time Dawn was around because as soon

You no longer test me with pop quizzes of independence and sass.   There are no sweaters dropped at the door, no dishes piled in the sink.   Grief has dark humor. One moment it allows me peace, comfort you no longer suffer the pain of illness. The next moment I am overcome with the agony I will never hear you sing, laugh, or feel your hugs.   Death didn’t come gentle. It raged and tortured your body, paraded doctors through your hospital room dragging needles, tests, and incompetence.   I’ve heard more sermons on hell than I can count, but not one told me losing my child would make me feel like God was more theater than real.  ©Susie Clevenger 2022