A week ago, I got to work and noticed the hospital felt different. The parking lot was fuller, there were no chaplains in the pastoral care office, and the mood was somber. I asked our secretary why the hospital felt different and she explained what had happened. The night before, the staff received the awful news that one of the 25 year old NICU nurses, Larsen Hunt, was murdered. I checked the news and found out that her ex-boyfriend came into her home, shot her several times, fled the scene and ended up driving his car into a house causing the car to catch fire and kill him, too. Tragedy all around. While I never met this beautiful young woman, I got to know about her story throughout the last week. A funeral service was held at a local Methodist church last Saturday and was led by one of our chaplains. There were over 800 people in attendance.
I worked with our pastoral care director and the NICU manager to put together a bulletin and service for the hospital. Most of my day yesterday was spent meeting with some of the NICU nurses to gather information about Larsen’s life for the bulletin. I searched for appropriate scriptures for one who has suffered at the hands of domestic violence, yet who lived a life of joy and laughter. By the end of the day, I realized that I was planning all of this on All Saint’s Day. It brought me peace to be reminded that Larsen is among the saints who have gone before us and that she joins the great cloud of witnesses who watch over us.
Often times in the hospital, we watch traumatic scenarios come in and I hear chaplains say “That could’ve been my child,” “I saw myself in that bed,” or “Wow, that hit close to home.” This one hit close to home for me. As I worked on the service, it made me realize just how fragile our lives really are. Larsen was only 8 months younger than me. She set her mind on her goals and fought to make her dreams happen. She was young and full of energy. I imagined that had I known her, we would’ve been friends. I wondered, “What would it look like if someone were planning my funeral?” How would people begin piecing together the stories and memories throughout my life?
I remember back to a class I took in seminary called “Death, Dying and Bereavement” where we had to write our own obituary and funeral service. In doing that assignment, I began to come to terms with my own mortality; this tragedy furthered that reality…not in a pessimistic way, but in a real way that reminds me of the importance of living for the moment and not taking life experiences for granted. It is unexplainable for anyone to die at a young age. Even though her physical death can technically be explained, I believe it is truly unexplainable as to why these random acts of violence happen. My heart breaks for her family, for her friends and for the TGH staff…my heart also breaks for her 5 year old son who has autism and who never again will have his mommy.
At the funeral, there were four doves released into the air: three for God (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit) and one for Larsen. The picture was shown at the TGH memorial service. It looked as though God was carrying her to heaven. It certainly brought me comfort to read these words from Revelation 21 at the memorial service (paraphrased here): “Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth. I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘God will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more.’” May that day come sooner rather than later.
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