Ain't no grave

I took a few minutes out of my day today to speak with a friend. Of course the conversation is going to turn toward either the loss of my daughter or the loss of my wife. It always does. And that's okay. My friend mentioned that she had another friend who had lost a child. Once she did, people were afraid to mention that child's name around her. They treated her as if that child never existed. Now, which do you imagine hurts more, the moment someone mentions your loss or the moment that they ignore your loss? In an attempt not to upset the apple cart you've allowed the apples to rot where they lay. 

Over the last ten months I have found myself at the funerals of three other people. Three others who have left a loving spouse to pick up the proverbial pieces. And I'll tell you, during those funerals it is quite difficult not to get selfish. The pain of loss rushes back and you wish someone were there to help ease your pain. This is especially hard when you have suffered two shattering losses. It is never more obvious that the love of your life is not standing beside you when you need her there to help lift you up. At the most recent funeral the widower looked at me and said, "This ain't your first rodeo is it?" Up to that point I was managing my emotions fairly well. But then the simple reminder of my own loss flooded me with those feelings again. And, knowing what this man was about to face made me hurt all the more. 

Shortly after this most recent memorial service someone came up to me and recognized how tough it must have been for me to be there. I thought about a dear friend of mine who I know loves me very much but couldn't come up to the hospital during the five nights my wife was there. And I fully understand her reasoning since I have hardly been able to come to the hospital myself even for something as joyous as a friend giving birth. With this in mind I began to ask myself why I bothered to come to the funeral. I can tell you that I hardly remember who was and wasn't there for the two I've had to be a part of over the last eight years. The only record I have is from the pages of the registry that so many signed. And it is amazing to me that, if you were to pull the pages out of each registry and compare, there are many of the same names in each. So, since my attendance would hardly be remembered, why do I bother?

I will tell you, I seldom go to a funeral or memorial service for the person who has passed. They aren't there. They have much better things to do, like pick out the drapes for their heavenly mansion. I go to a funeral for the ones who are left behind. Don't you? You come to pay your respects and to offer your condolences to the living. But why does that end at the funeral? Why is it that we are so scared to be around someone who is grieving? Is it because we are reminded of how precious and short life is? Is it because we can't find the words to say to fix it? Is it because we feel guilty because we still have our loved ones?

Regardless of the reasons, the person who is grieving doesn't care? Not to sound callous but the person who is grieving is most likely not focused on how you must feel. They are just working on turning moment by moment into day by day. I know I've blogged about this before but I believe it needs repeating. When you lose a loved one you lose more than one person that day. You also lose those who are scared to be around you for whichever reason it is. All you have left of your loved one are memories. And you want nothing more to add to those. You long for people to bring up the name of the loved one you lost. You want them to share a memory that they may not have. You desire to add more to your mental scrapbook. You are thrilled when someone else is thinking of your loved one too. 

One day this won't matter. One day we too will be involved in a heavenly interior design appointment while those we leave behind gather memories. When my day comes all I ask is that you share a memory or two (or 200) with whoever may remain to lay me to rest. Tell my nieces and nephews of our escapades on the softball fields. Tell my god-daughters about how great I was a playing pretend with your children too. Let my siblings know how much you will miss my hugs. Above all, let the world know that I am excited about my reunion with my wife and children and the other family I have in heaven and how they too should make the wonderful decision to join us in eternity with my Heavenly Father.