Life & Death

This isn't something I intended to write about, but I haven't been very good about posting regularly. So, maybe I need to just write it out when it's heavy on my heart instead of waiting for a moment when I can blog about a pre-planned topic.

Death.

I'm fortunate enough to say that I can only name a handful of people I've known personally who have passed away. And with almost all of them, while I don't want to diminish the impact of their lives here on earth, the grief I've experienced is pretty mild, knowing that they either lived a long life or that I was separated from them for quite some time before they died. But, there's one particular person whose life and death touch me in a way that I find difficult to describe.

He was a little black boy I knew in elementary school. The only reasons why this is of any significance are:
1) Race wasn't a big deal growing up in Texas, but having lived in Oregon for 15 years, I am not around very many black people, and the stark difference in our skin colors is only one example of the differences between us.
2) He always said I looked like Ricki Lake. Therefore, he was my Montel Williams.

We probably didn't have too much in common besides a faith in God, being from the same tiny town in Texas, and having many classes together during our middle school years. And, in the classes where we sat alphabetically, he usually ended up right in front of me. I, to this day, don't remember what drew us together or how it played out, but I remember very distinctly considering him one of my best friends, especially during a time when my long-term BFF's had very different class schedules from me. Apart from some after-school phone calls, we never hung out outside of class. In fact, all that stands out in my mind roughly 18 years later was that he was just someone I knew I could count on as a friend in most of my classes.

Then, just after my freshman year, I moved cross-country to Oregon. I never saw him again after that. In the following 13 years, we had one surprise phone call shortly after I moved here. After that, we remained typical Facebook friends, just keeping up with each other's pictures or posts, although never really having much of a relationship, with the exception of one brief, but personal email where I was able to tell him how much I appreciated his friendship so many years ago. Four months after that email, he died. And, it hit me like a ton of bricks, in a way I've never experienced before.

Despite not having seen him in 13 years and having very little relationship with him, I bawled over his death for several days. But, even more surprising to me is that I have had other moments since where I've begun to think about him and the grief flooded over me all over again. In fact, tonight, a full year and half since his passing, I randomly thought of him while laying in bed. I can't even tell you now what brought him to my mind, but tears began to pour down my face once again as I thought of him. I can't tell you with any certainty why he made such an impact on me. I know the world is missing a great guy, but I'm sure there's more to it than that. I think that him being so close to my age made me empathize with it in a way that's difficult to explain. Something to the effect of "people my age shouldn't be dying" mixed with an overwhelming mother's heart that aches for his young children to face the loss of their daddy and for his wife to lose her love so young. And, while I thoroughly believe grief has a healthy place in our emotions, I was trying to collect myself, as to not wake my husband and have to explain why I was randomly bawling at 1:00 am. Wiping away the never-ending tears, I couldn't help but think that there must be some greater purpose to remembering him. In other words, there must be some way I can channel the sadness into something more meaningful than a tear-soaked pillow. So, I began to think, is there something I could do to benefit cancer patients? Crochet hats for chemo patients? Donate blood for people who need transfusions? Maybe whenever I am reminded of my friend, I can use it as a prompt to pray for his family, especially his wife and kids? Maybe it is also a prompt for me to take a little extra time and hold my family close?

The writer in me wishes I had something profound to end this post. A message of encouragement for you to love your loved ones more loudly and hold them more tightly... A call to arms to cure the world of cancer... A thought-provoking statement on the power of life...

But, the real life woman sitting on the couch in my underwear at almost 3am has no definitive conclusion to this at all. I can't tell you just yet how I am going to channel my tears into something that saves the world. I just knew I couldn't sleep without getting it off of my chest. So, after some time of quiet and sleep, I think I'm going to spend some time seeking God and asking Him how he might want to speak to me during these moments of remembering my friend.