On one hand, I am a little upset that I was unable to attend, being 8,000 miles away. On the other hand, I spent time with him while he was alive, and I think that counts for a lot more.
Counts. There's an interesting concept. Is there really some cosmic scale we are supposed to balance our time on? Did I spend enough time with him during his life to make up for missing the interment of his ashes? Did the joy I felt being with him during baseball games, childrens birthday parties, and shooting the breeze while waiting for the charcoal to be ready to grill on in some way make up for me being absent during a large chunk of his last year?
The word I have heard most from family about the burial were "closure". Now, I don't take from them whatever feelings they have, but I don't share them. Perhaps it was because I was not present that I don't share their sense of finality. The dictionary defines closure as "the resolution of a significant event or relationship in a person's life, or the sense of contentment experienced after such a resolution". That sounds good. Where can I get me some?
What I feel is conflicted. I know he is gone. I know he will never watch his grandkids grow up. I know he will never see my daughters marry, graduate, or have children of their own. I know all this. And it sucks. I want to rage at the heavens, and point out what I already know - it isn't fair. Life is too short, and death is too final.
Now, before all my Christian friends start sending me biblical passages of comfort, and assurances of Ed's salvation and life in heaven, let me cut you all off. I KNOW. But what I know to be true, and what I feel right now are two very different things. I know he is in a place with no suffering, where his fatigue and memory loss are gone, where his pain and immobility are taken away. And yet still I want him here, to share lunch with, to talk sports, and politics, and just watch the world go by. I don't think that makes me selfish. Just human. And doomed to disappointment. Ed isn't coming back.
Everyone knows the shortest verse in the Bible - "Jesus wept." But how many people know, or care, about the context? Jesus has just arrived in Bethany, and spoken with Martha. Lazarus has died. Jesus tells Martha that "I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die." Martha then calls her sister, Mary. Mary gets up from where she was resting, and the family and friends follow her. And when Jesus sees Mary crying, and her friends and family crying with her, he "Groaned in the Spirit, and was troubled." Then Jesus weeps.
I love the story. First, it shows God has compassion on the heartbroken, and shares our grief. But to me, the more important part is Jesus claims to be "THE resurrection"... and then He raises Lazarus to prove his claim. Actions follow the words.
So do me a favor. Weep with me. Grieve with me, and my family. Say a prayer for our comfort. Don't give me promises of a better life, or words you think will comfort me. Please. "I am sorry. Is there anything you need?" are the most comforting words I have heard.
The Lord of creation realizes that, sometimes in the face of overwhelming grief, the best thing to do is cry with the grieving family.
I miss you, Ed. You are always in my thoughts.
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