Unexpected Grief

Recently I got word that a good friend of mine had passed away in Waco, Tx. He was 44.

Tony was such a dear friend that my kids called him "Uncle Tony." He had a contagious smile and a great laugh.

He loved God, life, and people.

We don't know why he died.

They found his body on Dec. 28, and he had apparently been dead for several days. No signs of forced entry or criminal activity. Tony was simply dead. As of today they don't even know how he died.

The shock of hearing about a friend's untimely death (is death ever timely?) is bad enough, but this sudden bit of bad news has hit me harder than I would have imagined.

You see, grief came knocking on my door, and he was not expected.

I wasn't prepared, I didn't know how to act or what to say.

When my father died, I had seen his slow deterioration and was not surprised.

Tony is my age (or close enough). He was relatively healthy and happy.

Grief often shows up at the most inopportune time. He is seldom a welcome guest and even more rarely an invited one. He walks in unannounced and tries to take over the household.

Grief immobilizes you. It makes you stop and hurt.

I guess grief is useful, but when you are experiencing it you just want it to stop. You want the uninvited pest to go away.

I am grieving for the loss of my friend. Although, to be honest, I am probably grieving more for my own sake than his. I will miss Tony. A part of my life has been taken away without my permission. I have been reminded that I am mortal and temporal.

I am not infinite.

To borrow from Robert Browning Hamilton:

I walked a mile with Pleasure, She chattered all the way; But left me none the wiser, For all she had to say. I walked a mile with Sorrow And ne'er a word said she; But, oh, the things I learned from her When Sorrow walked with me!

I must admit that Sorrow has often enriched me in ways that Pleasure never did, but in all honesty I enjoy Pleasure's company more. It is true with most of us humans.

Of course, I guess we don't appreciate Pleasure as much as when we have walked with Sorrow.

Grief has come to me, he came uninvited.
We will walk a while, probably in silence.
At the end, I will still miss my friend, but I will cherish life more.
I hope.
Grief is not my friend, but he helps in some ways, I guess.
Grief came knocking on my door, and I didn't check to see who it was before I answered.
Now Grief is a guest in my home.
How long he'll stay is anybody's guess.
He'll leave quietly one day and the only evidence that he was there will be the memory of our missing friend and a few tear-filled tissues.

Grief will go, but hopefully he will leave me wiser and more grateful.

I miss Tony.

This topic is heavy, I think I want to put it down now. Sorry for being a bummer!

Thanks for reading!