I was invited to share my thoughts as a speaker (of sorts)
to talk about my nephew and my son who left this world way too young, 20 and 27
years old respectively. This event is held annually on the second Sunday of
December and is set aside to remember those we have lost to this world: our
children, grandchildren, sibling, etc.
While it was somewhat solemn and directly linked to the emotional
hole in one’s heart that cannot be filled with anything or anyone else, each of
us deals with that void differently, if at all. Personally, I was accustomed to
hearing from my son on a regular basis and afterwards visited the gravesite
regularly, sometimes daily. My visits are referred to as going to see him, not
saying the word grave or cemetery.
This went on for many, many months until reading a book that
was highly recommended and loaned to me be a much loved, respected, Godly man…
my uncle. The book is “A Grief Observed”
by C. S. Lewis. At the bottom of one
page I read something that hit me hard and really did feel punched in the
chest. I will paraphrase here “visits to
the grave keep them dead”. I read it
three or four times before the truth behind the words sunk into my head but
more importantly my heart. I knew then
that my borderline obsessive visits to the “site” were robbing me of my joy in
the life that he had shared with so many.
Considering I was told that having children would bypass
me, I had two sons born four years apart and for the youngest son, his extremely
active life was shared with me for 27 years and five days. My middle sister had difficulty in conceiving
her first born son who was born in 1975 and was lost to us in 1994.
So after reading the book I chose “joy” to recall what
was learned from them during the shortened life we had with them.
From my nephew Donnie and son Eric, I learned about:
·
Laughter - They did it easily, often and invited
everyone around into their world immediately. Their teasing was playful, never
harmful.
·
Hugs - The hugs were huge with arms reaching all
around you which made me feel so special and loved. Sometimes they would lift
you from the ground, spin you around and park you somewhere else in the room
and laughing the whole time.
·
Appreciation for Life – They took nothing for
granted and wanted to experience all that God had made for their
enjoyment. They loved the outdoors and
never saw a skyline that they did not enjoy.
Eric and I would send pictures from our cell phones of those that we may
particularly enjoy. My other son and I have
the same practice.
·
Relationships – They each managed their
relationships well, whether family or friends. They also honored their commitments, however
difficult. They took responsibility for
their actions.
From my Eric, I learned other things as well and do apply
these “lessons” in my life at every occasion.
·
You can complement someone without lying to
them. I am reminded of the time that
someone made an unkind remark about a young girl. He said that every girl has something
beautiful about them and one should tell them but don’t exaggerate it to the
point that it becomes a lie, which is equally hurtful.
·
Every person has something good about them, focus
on that and it actually makes it easier when you are hurt by that person who
might have made it a practice to be ugly to just about everyone.
·
Lies kill people. It’s like a cancer that eats
you up from the inside.
·
When I am gone, it just means that I will see
you later. This statement came about when
we were talking about the time when he father died and he looked at me and said
that if he died before me that we would certainly see each other again in
heaven.
There is a poem that I read recently that is especially
fitting for this day. This is the last
paragraph from “In a Hundred Years’ Time” by Suzanne and Louise Kelman:
Live
today and enjoy it.
Grasp
every moment you can.
For
Life is the eternal race-
No
winners, it’s just that you ran.
They each ran their race and it was a good and memorable one. At times at a sprint and sometimes at full speed but with a goal in mind to not just "do" their best but to "be" their best.
To be clear, I am not fooling myself about his faults. He was no angel and by the time he got things
right, he was taken from me. Some mistakes were repeated and one in particular
may have contributed to his being no longer here.
Was he perfect? No.
Was he forgiven? Yes and in Christ I know that I will see
him when it is my turn to check out of here.
For me as we shared our remembrances and hung our butterfly
ornaments on the Christmas tree last night, it meant that I would say and did
say “SEE YOU LATER ERIC”.