I don't know if anyone missed me, but I was away in Vancouver this past weekend. I had to drop everything, re-arrange an already-busy schedule, in order to attend a friend's funeral. He wasn't a young man, per se: He was probably sixteen to twenty years my senior, though he never discussed his age with me.
It was a new type of funeral—you know, burial first, then the service. I kind of like it myself. I don't question why people rarely avoid funeral services where the body is present, along with all the accompanying morbidity.
My friend—we'll call him Len—had lived a good, full life. He had raised five children, spent years growing a successful insurance business, and spent many months out of many years helping out in missions work in El Salvador, the birthplace of his wife, Silvia. In fact, he learned the language and the culture well, two things I that never did during my one-year teaching stint there.
Life had a twisted end for Len, at least during his last two years. Despite his years of service, his positive contributions to society, and his pro-active faith, he suffered from all sorts of cancer. In fact, everytime I tried to talk to him over the past year or so, I could literally hear a deterioration in his voice, cognitive skills, and perspective.
One of the greatest blows within those last two years was when he had to bury one of his daughters. He had already buried another daughter years ago, owing to some moral missteps. This most recent death, however, was owing to missteps of another sort, namely, she literally slipped on some steps and suffered some very serious head damage. She succumbed to those injuries just a few days after her fall.
As a friend and a fellow-Christian, I wonder about these circumstances that befell Len. And I know that I am not the first one to ask the big question, “Why?” Why do good people suffer bad things? Why do we suffer so much pain and disappointment, in every sense?
Then there's the question of an apparently impotent Being—I'll call Him God, if you don't mind (and actually, I'll still call Him God, even if you do mind)--Who seems incapable or at least unable to stop the pain.
Not so, of course, but we have erased God from the public arena, with Christmas being the latest event under attack. Not sure how much I can develop this thought in a column without some of the populace getting up in arms. However, I'm sure many of my readers have a spiritual bent.
Back to Len. I was amazed at the upbeat nature of the funeral service. We will all miss him, but we all had fond memories of a life well-lived, of a death well-faced. According to his understanding of the Good Book, he knew where he was going, to a place called heaven, where there is no pain or disappointment, no grief or sorrow.
And no angels strumming harps on fluffy clouds, either.
This funeral was a reality check for me at different levels. I saw many of my friends from the past and noticed how they had aged. Of course, I had too. I saw the sadness yet the joy in those left behind, and most of them shared Len's hope of life beyond life, if you will. And I saw life (and death) in a slightly new perspective: We're not here for a long time--nor a good time, by the way. We are here for a full time, and we need to make the most of it.
I feel fine today, but that may change by tomorrow. Three years ago, Len would have said the same thing. He didn't anticipate a two-year run of cancerous masses, excruciating pain, and constant trips to the hospital. He didn't know that the next significant death on his timetable within those two years would his eldest daughter.
He was here, and now he's gone. We're all better for the gift of his life, and strange to say it, the gift of his death. It was good to reflect on the things that matter, and dying is one of them. We try to avoid it, re-name it, excuse it, and deny it, but it does happen once in a lifetime to all of us, 100% of the time.
It is my earnest desire that when it comes to my turn to pass on, there may be as many people moved to tears and laughter, fond memories, and impact statements as I saw the other day. I would think you want the same.
I also want to make sure that when it comes to dying, I will have no regrets, no remorse, and give no resistance.
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