Surfing or Drowning –
I just finished reading an article from seven years ago today about a father and son who were killed by a drunk driver. The mom shared it on social media and the heartache is still present and the wound raw. I can’t imagine the pain. I knew the father a little. He was in our church’s youth group. He was a few years older than me but always seemed cool. He was an athlete. He ran, biked, swam, and surfed. The morning dad and son were killed they were training for a triathlon. The father was named after his father and the son carried on the tradition. He was the III.
How do you have hope in the midst of such loss? How do you not drown in sorrow? How do you not get lost in such darkness? I don’t think there’s an easy answer. Quips and quotes don’t begin to address the brokenness and reveal our lack of intimacy with death. We do everything we can to avoid it. Most of us try to prolong our lives by any means necessary. When death finally does come we are quick to make the arrangements, organize a memorial or funeral service and push past it as fast as possible. But even then, death finds a way to corner us, trap us, confront us. After the hustle and bustle of meals, flowers, sympathy cards, and services we find ourselves alone when death, misery, mourning, comes calling.
Experts tell us that when we are caught in a riptide to not fight the current or it will surely drown its victim. Let it grab you and then slowly, moving parallel to the shore, slip from its grip. I think this is how we deal with the loss of those we love. There’s no escaping and fighting and refusing to acknowledge its power end in certain defeat. To allow it take hold, scare us, shake our faith, sweep our “normal” life away, but not giving up is the key. Slowly our strength returns, we regain our bearings, we slip from its grip, rise above the waters and live.
The Procession –
The other day I pulled over and stopped for a funeral procession which was passing. I was in a hurry but not so much that I wasn’t reminded that one day all of us will be riding in the back of a hearse with friends and family members traveling behind.
I am not sure when and where pulling over for a funeral procession began. I know different regions of the country do and do not practice the behavior. When we lived in the mid-west of the country it was sometimes yes and sometimes no for pulling over to the side. Living in the Northeast there seemed to be a lot less of honoring the dead by stopping your vehicle.
There’s a wonderful anonymous wisdom proverb which states;
“Rich or poor, famous, infamous or unknown, person of power or a simple man, all are buried in the same size box.”
Our box awaits for us. It will fit in the back of a slightly larger car and proceed to our final resting place. The questions of; “When? Where? How?” aren’t important. The primary question is; “What do we do with the time we have left?”