Abstract: Gifts and Grief

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I can’t wait to grow old,

when my friends stop dying from cancer and car accidents and overdoses,

and start dying from normal shit like heart attacks and old man smell.

I suppose it’s a blessing to die in an old age,

one I receive with great joy from our Father.

But, I see with great clarity,

this gift comes with grief.

So be it.

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Vol II: #72 Terrible Week

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Earlier this week, terrible things happened. The shooting in Texas was horrific and mind-numbing. And, a good friend lost his older brother in a freak kayaking accident. He was 42 with a wife and two young boys. As stated when I can began- terrible things, shitty things. I have no answers but to ask the Lord to comfort to the those who mourn. Heaven weeps with us.

One thing I learned from people dealing with cocked-up situations is not to let grief and anger consume me. I’ll take it a step further and say it does no good to ask “why?” or “how could God let this happen?” A) Shit happens. You’ll go crazy trying to figure out every disappointment. On the rare occasion you receive a truthful “why” answer, it will not ease the pain of absence or loss. And, B) God does want a single bad thing to happen to His children. Consider the Bible is full of shitty actions- murders, rapes, betrayal, torture, etc. God seems to “let” a lot happen. The temptation is to believe the existence of tragedy is a judgement against us but it isn’t. Shit happens to everyone and not all life can be consumed by tragedy or we would not have time to do much else.

Weeks like this one make me more grateful to be alive. I’m thankful for life and the people I get to love. What a gift. I’m more aware of the goodness and mercy of the Lord than ever. Why? Because. I should’ve died many times over whether it was drunk driving, nearly falling backward off a mountain, or swerving to miss a stopped car on the highway. I’m nearly 42 and I could’ve had a freak accident and write up in the paper. But, I’m still here. Thank God.

Terrible stuff happens. God is good and so is life. All of these things are true.

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Vol II: #12 Real Life Shit

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I need prayer y’all.

My grieving roommate returns next week, and I’m filled with conflicting thoughts, emotions, and expectations. He left December 11th, exactly eight months from the day he will return. In that span, he buried his father, settled multiple estates, and oversaw repairs to his mother’s house. The poor guy also contracted Coronavirus and had to bury a beloved family dog. So, yeah. He’s had a shit time. I can’t deny or minimize the fire he walked through over the last year.

In my heart, I know I want to be kind and understanding to my friend. I want to be the person so many people were to me, over the last 15 months. My friends overwhelmed me with love and empathy, and no one told me to “get over it” or “man up.” They allowed me to grieve what I lost without pressure or judgment.

As I type, I see clearly what my issue is: I can’t fix him. I can’t remove the pain he feels from his father’s absence. It’s not up to me to heal his broken heart. Restoration is a work of the Holy Spirit, and my roommate has to be a present partner in the process. From what I can tell, in my conversations with him, my friend isn’t ready to walk through healing. He’s not ready to let go, or ready to look to his future with hope and expectation.

The uncertainty is what I don’t like. Selfishly, I want my roommate to put….

Well, shit.

During the composition of this blog post, my roommate texted me. The contractors he hired to repair his mother’s house are MIA, and the project is only 1/3 finished. The house is a wreck, which means he’s not coming back any time soon. Fuck. And, who am I to complain?

Lord, I am begging you for a breakthrough for my friend. Light a righteous fire under the ass of the appropriate managers and workers repairing the house. Shower him with love and peace.

Amen.

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Journal: #315 Grief is Grief

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I spoke to my friend Blake for almost two hours last night. From the start I knew he was down. Blake is a man who wants to do right to each and every person in his life. I empathize with him. I do too. The problem is “doing right” for one person can and does often conflict with what is right for another. The grief of his brother’s death is still fresh. The whole family is hurting, but he can’t make everyone happy. Newly married, my friend is navigating what it means to choose his wife above all others.

As I listened to him, my heart broke. I can’t imagine being in his shoes. His mother lives alone, and his dad expects him for holidays. From my perspective the answers are clear, obvious even. It’s ok to be imperfect. Your life is complicated. Set boundaries and be gracious with yourself. How easy we find the answers for others. Yet, they seem hidden when we need them.

What alarmed me today was my attitude toward another friend of mine, another soul suffering from grief. This particular man has been through the wash for a while. To make matters worse, he lacks the self-worth and emotional tools to handle it. Alcohol is his medication of choice. I don’t judge myself for self-medicating. Why would I? But, I’ve judged him because I do not empathize with his plight. The problems in his life seem ordinary. Better put, he’s not justified to me. What a terrible thing for me to admit. The hypocrisy is truly evident. Who am I to say one grief is more valid than another?

Grief is grief regardless of source. Love does not say one person’s hurt is more painful than another’s. How dare we belittle a child or a friend? What’s tough for one person is not for another. Death is a real bitch for some people. Break-ups…are hard for some people. We all have some act or condition that breaks us. Grace, being what it is, does not classify them. Neither should we.

Lord, forgive me for judging my friend (and family for that matter.) I’m sorry I did that, and I don’t want to do it again. Thank your for showing me this dark place in my heart. I want there to be only light. Your light. - Amen

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