There comes a time in each of our lives when we must face the pain of loss and the reality of death. Until recently, I had only glimpsed that experience in the lives of others, and even come close to it in my own family, but not truly encountered it. This past memorial day weekend however, my grandfather passed away, and so my turn to really experience loss of my own had come.
My grandfather when he came to visit us in Texas a few years ago.
My grandfather would have been 80 years old this July. Nearly 80 years on this earth is a pretty good amount of time, but no amount of time ever really seems long enough. As it so happens, this last year and half proved to be a year and a half longer than we expected to have him with us. He had been ill for sometime and in the winter of 2014, doctors had determined that he likely had only 6 months to a year left. In the extended period of time that he managed to outlive that prognosis, he went through quite a lot of pain and suffering, slowly withering away in his hospital bed. He held onto his faith, as he was an ardent believer, but I know he also looked forward to an end in his suffering. I believe that he was ready to go, and so while his passing hurt me, I knew that it was a blessing for him.
My Uncle Jimmy asked me how I felt after the funeral and I shared with him that sitting in the room with the open casket and the body throughout the service was like an out-of-body experience for me - so surreal. I process grief in my own way and that too made me feel like an outsider in the midst of family and friends whose grief was more apparent, while I was just so . . . composed.
We discussed more aspects of loss and grief and my Uncle Jimmy raised the point that a funeral for Christians differs from others, because we have not just the hope, but the certainty of knowing that those we have lost are in a better place - the best place as a matter of fact. So while we mourn the loss of those we lose, and oftentimes the circumstances under which we lost them, we also celebrate what many believers refer to as their home-going.
Of course that hope does not take away the pain of waking up to a world where you no longer see or hear or hold them every day.
This week a dear friend of mine lost her little boy, Will. She brought him into the ER with stomach pains and had to leave the hospital without him the next day. Will was only 4 years old. When I came upon the news, I had to sit down. It was shocking and painful and it felt so unfair. I cried for these reasons and for the pure sadness of it all. That was how I felt, and I had not even known him really. I could hardly imagine how she was feeling. I think of her having to lay him to rest and say her goodbyes soon and everything going on around me seems insignificant.
So within the past two weeks I find myself trying to process these two partings from the world, and I wake up this morning to the news that a 22 year old girl was shot and killed. Christina Grimme gets murdered at her own meet-and-greet and the murderer takes his own life as well. Where is the sense in that? A happy, healthy girl who was bringing joy to so many people is now gone from this world, not because of some uncontrollable illness, but because someone who had no right whatsoever decided to end her life.
I think about her family, who is surely hurting from this loss and also having to share that loss, which is typically reserved for family and friends, with all of her fans. I think about the man who took her life and his. He too had a family and presumably friends, who despite the actions that he took in his final hour, loved him and will miss him. His family will have to bear the weight of the public's perception of a man who was to them simply son or brother or friend, maybe even husband or father, as they are mourning.
As grim or cliche as it may seem, I also think of all the people who die each day without my notice. When you lose someone your world operates in its own realm of time - in slow-motion, or on pause, or stopped altogether. In the meantime, the unknowing world around you continues to move along at its increasingly rapid speed.
It's been 2 weeks since I laid my grandfather to rest, and already I am back on the world's time. You have to go back to work or school or whatever it is you do with your time on a daily basis. And you can't stop living. But maybe, just maybe you can slow down.
As I look around and see for just a moment how much pain and loss there is to be dealt with, it occurs to me that I don't make enough time to do the things that matter. I do not say "I love you" enough or check in on friends and family enough. I don't spend enough time with the people I love and have the good fortune to have near me.
I do not want to find that I waited until someone was no longer here with me to bring them flowers and sing them songs and tell them all the things that I loved about them. I don't want to wait until they cannot be here with me to celebrate their lives and their character or their gifts, which we will later refer to as their legacy.
My grandfather's legacy is his faith and his ministry. Little Will's legacy seems to be the joy that he had and brought to others. Christina Grimmie's legacy seems to be her kindness, her sincerity, and of course her music. Though we might ache a little when we remember them and cannot hold them, we'll forever be blessed by their legacies and our memories of them, and we can take comfort in that. More importantly, we can take comfort in the fact that these were believers and so they are at home in heaven, where someday those of us who believe as they did will join them.
Until that time comes for me, I hope that I will have the wherewithal to make the most of my time here - to live in such a way that I can offer to others the hope of heaven that I have. I hope to strengthen my faith, so that I can be privy to the peace that God offers in times like these, and share that with others as well. I hope that I will find and/or make the time to spend with family and friends and to celebrate them regularly. I want to give my flowers and my songs and all my love today, while they are still with me and I am still here. I don't know how long it will be before I see them in heaven, but I thank God that I will, and I intend to make the most of my time here until I do.