Blindsided

I think I understand death.

It's that thing that can happen to anyone at anytime and is not discriminate of age, state of health, race, creed, color, good person, bad person, or any other variable.

It takes my idols and heroes.  When it does, I pay homage by listening to or watching their work.  I take comfort in the legacy they have left behind.

It takes my friends' relatives and friends.  It takes my acquaintances.  It takes my friends. It takes my family members.  Eventually, it will take me.

I take each occurrence to heart.  I don't fear dying.  I fear suffering. I fear others dying.  I fear for the survivors.

With each death that touches my life, I process the change that person's passing has had on me and those he or she has left behind.  I feel sad.  In some cases, I cannot fathom the impact.  Of course, when my grandparents, parents, in-laws, and big sister passed away, the process was unbearable for quite some time.  When the life celebrations ended and it was time to keep going, I began the healing process on the outside first.  It wasn't difficult to smile in spite of the grief gnawing my inner psyche.  Gradually, the routine and responsibility of being alive began to take over and I could spend hours doing things that would engulf my mind and take my grief from the forefront. Feelings of longing would come and go often, then less often, and finally, would usually come to the surface during a reminder:  on a birthday or anniversary, during a song or scene in a movie, in conversations...those times are wistful, but the gift of time has brought acceptance of, but a dislike for death.

It is during the early times after a passing, though, that I feel the most blindsided.  I can't think of whimsy, or funny, or light without instantly feeling that my system has been jolted by death.  Some deaths are anticipated. There is sickness and decline.  I have seen the sickness, seen the dying, grieved intermittently, and have begun living again...albeit with a slightly heavier heart.  Other deaths are sudden.  It is the instantaneous shock of getting news of a sudden death that has stunned me this week...

Jack passed away suddenly last Sunday.  He was my neighbor.  He was quite a guy...a class act.  He was just 55 years old.  Though he was kept away from us, his neighbors, with work and family activities, he was a 25-year constant in a community where family status changes, job transfers, and even death changed the neighborhood dramatically.

My favorite Jack memory happened many years ago when my very young son, who had a disability, wanted to play soccer.  We obliged him, signed him up, and took him to practices.  I had a very difficult time encouraging him because I didn't know the game of soccer, and selfishly felt that the disability would keep him from listening to what he was being told by the coaches, and from having fun.  My son would run without purpose on the field regardless of where the ball was. As a soccer Dad, I was helpless and clueless when it came to helping my own son.  I remember sharing my fears with Jack, whose daughter also played on the team.   Jack knew soccer and wanted my boy to have fun too.  Before I knew it, Jack put his arm around him, and talked to him while pointing to the ball.  The next time the team was on the field, my son ran and smiled, and followed the ball.  I remember Jack coming over to us saying, "He's doing it, man...he's doing it!"  He repeated that phrase countless times that season.  My son had fun...

I didn't see Jack often, but when I did, I could count on a smile, a handshake, a pat on the back, and a buddy hug whether our chance meeting was at Walmart, a school event, or right in the neighborhood.  He made everyone he knew feel like they were an important part of his life.  Like me, he had a wife, four children, and a grandchild, and I believe we genuinely cared when we asked about the well being of our respective families.  I believe that he wasn't finished being a husband, father, and grandfather.  I believe that heaven must have been hard up for a great guy, and that heaven is the only thing that could call him from his family.

I believe that we:  the soccer, school, church, and neighborhood connections Jack has made in the last 25 years, are moving a little slower as we process and remember.   I know that a community was fortunate if Jack was its member.  I know that communities have been brought together in this time of shock to promise to move forward with nonstop prayers for peace for Jack, and for strength for those he left behind.

Yes, death is that thing that can happen to anyone at anytime and is not discriminate of age, state of health, race, creed, color, good person, bad person, or any other variable.

I don't think I understand death at all.