Losses

"Haec credam a deo pio, a deo justo, a deo scito?"  - Jed Bartlet

We have all lost, or will lose, people close to us.  The loss of our parents and grandparents can be crushing, but that is the way of the world - the so-called natural order of things.  The loss of siblings and close friends cuts deep as well and reminds us of the vagaries of life.  But to lose a child must be the most painful loss a person could suffer; an unbearable burden that a more charitable God wouldn't allow.

It is unjust.  It is wrong.

I lost a lot of friends while in high school.  Some of those deaths were sudden and probably preventable, some were lingering passings brought on by incurable illness; one was never adequately explained.  Back then I tried to find meaning in those deaths, some reason or purpose.  I tried to understand how the guy I rode the bus with one day could be gone forever the next; how your flesh-and-blood friend with whom you joked in the hallways every day could be reduced to a memory in the blink of an eye.  As a kid, it didn't seem possible.

I realize now that as an adult, I have come no closer to that kind of understanding.  When news of a young life cut short comes, I still feel that frustration that comes from trying to make sense out of the nonsensical.  I still feel the impotence and slow-growing rage that comes from an inability to offer any meaningful insight or real comfort. 

When it comes to exhausting, unbearable grief, words fail us.  I don't know how the family feels and truth be told, I never want to learn.  It scares the hell out of me.  I'm not a clergyman; I can't fall back on their loss being part of God's plan.  I'm not sure I believe that.  And while it may be true that the child is in a better place now, I know that if I faced the same, I would tear down heaven itself to undo what has been done.

So what is there to say?  A priest back in those days in school gave us advice that fits best:  Don't try to say too much or to say it too well.  Just say, "I'm sorry."  Offer your prayers, if you have them, and do what you can to ease the burdens of daily life for the family - whether it's meals, or laundry, or cutting the grass.

Then go home and hug your own until they beg you to leave them alone.