Good Monday morning...

 

… and I am processing the deep significance of my friend’s life and death, on my life.  As I shared in his memorial service, when I heard the news of his death, I wept.  I was driving to Fallbrook that morning, when Sarah, Bill and Mary’s beautiful daughter, called with the news.  After our brief conversation I remember weeping out loud.  It occurred to me that the last time I had wept like that was 40 years ago when I got the call that my dad had died.  I had the same, spontaneous, unstoppable, burst of emotional sadness packed with the deep disappointment of the loss of future opportunities to be with my dad… to grow as friends and experience the transition that is intended for fathers and sons.

That loss of future opportunities is hitting me hard right now.  I will learn to cope with the loss, just like I had to do with my dad, but it doesn’t feel like it will be very easy.  Spending Saturday with so many of Bill’s family and friends was good; a rich experience in which I was afforded the privilege to share my thoughts, my love and appreciation for Bill, out loud, and I pray, for the benefit of the 400+ people in attendance at his service.  But my time with my dear friend is over.  That sucks!

So, here’s what I’ve learned so far in these two significant losses that were brought to me by the destructive effects of acute myeloid leukemia.  First, that the natural experience of physical presence, whether on a walk or over the phone, is gone.  I must learn to adjust to life without the physical presence of my dad or my friend, Bill.  This is a difficult task in the grief work that I must do because there is no alternative, since death is permanent.

I realize that I must leave it there for now.  My grief is very raw and very real.  I will try not to lash out at others as I did 40 years ago when I was in the early phases of my grief journey with Dad’s death.  One of the things I will ponder is the significance – or not – of these two important men in my life, being taken out by AML.  And the 40-year gap and its significance – or not.

Thank you for listening – or not – to my pain.

For His glory,

Pastor Mike