Things I am learning from life and death

In the midst of the news of my brothers unexpected and untimely death, I have had a variety of reflections that I want to process or share. They are somewhat random.

One is how it struck me that Facebook has become a place to grieve and remember someone. I read a ton of posts about my brother passing and how he touched people’s lives and while the posts were really cool, it struck me how odd it is that we have in this century a very public place to grieve and remember loved ones.  When I went to his page and read all the stuff people had posted I was in tears. It is really weird to cry while reading a computer screen – but it was good.

Another is how often I fail at pastoral matters.  I may be hard on myself but it was really eye opening to see who and how people responded to my situation of losing my brother.  Many people sent an email expressing condolences.  Some texted.  I really appreciated all of the communication.  However, three folks phoned me immediately.  One of them has been a mentor and pastor to me. Two are folks I work closely with on a project. Those calls meant a lot to me and yet I could not help but think about times when I did not call someone who was grieving and probably should have.  I did the text and or email thing. That’s not a bad thing, but there were times that I should have handled it more personally. I won’t process this any further than to say that I want to be there for people more than I have been in the past.

Another is the whole eternal destiny question.  When my dad passed away I was comforted by my confidence in God’s goodness and God’s sovereignty.  In other words, I was at peace knowing that God was in charge.  When my brother passed away, I immediately questioned the matter.  He grew up going to church and as a teen was very much all about Jesus. In college however, things changed and he drifted from church.  A few weeks before he died, we exchanged some text messages in which he really expressed a profound sense of God’s sovereignty. The night he passed though, God gave me a sign in the midst of wondering about Steve’s eternal destiny.  It’s an odd sign that perhaps I’ll unpack sometime, but it was so comforting that I went to bed feeling at peace.  That peace has not left me.

One more area I am still reflecting on.  I’m not sure why it is but my grieving does not usually involve much crying.  I get choked up and tears come to my eyes but I rarely have a real cry.  It’s something that bothers me greatly.  In the midst of a room full of tears, I am the guy with the expressionless face and watery eyes.  I am at that point feeling really awful that I am not doing what I feel I ought to be doing.  It’s not that I feel the need to fit in, but I don’t want to be perceived as cold hearted and something inside says that is what is going on.  I suspect it’s a lie, a voice internal that I should not listen to.  Yet I want to let it out with a good bawling sometimes.  I grew up as the “sensitive kid”, so I did my share of crying.  I have a vivid memory of sitting on the edge of a bed at my grandmother’s house where I was staying while my parents attended the funeral of my other grandmother.  My grandmother’s arm around me comforting me as I just completely lost it.  She told me that it was good to cry and let it out.  I believed her and still do.  On Sunday afternoon, I’ll be in a room full of people grieving my brother’s passing.  Not sure if I will cry or have that expressionless face with watery eyes.  That is what I dread most about Sunday.