“To take the hurt out of death, you must remove the love
from life.”
This month has been one of the hardest months of my career
to this point. Within a thirty-day
period, I have assisted families through losses that I pray I never have to
face. Those who have tragically
lost children, those who lost loved ones who saw no hope and lost their reason
to continue living, those who received a startling diagnoses and within a few
days were gone, tragic accidents, and those who lost a dear family member that
was the glue that held their family together. I’ve been a funeral director to each one. I’ve been a counselor to several. I’ve been a mediator between a
few. I’ve been “the strong one”
for many.
I’m the first to admit, my job isn’t easy, and I say that
without boast. This month, I
laughed. I planned. I guided. I hugged. I’ve
hopefully encouraged… and when nobody was looking, I cried. I cried for the mother who screamed at
the loss of her son. I cried for
the parents losing their baby. I
cried for the husband who called me sobbing to let me know his wife, who was
“too young to die”, just passed away due to an undetected illness. I cried for the mountain of a man who
broke down at the loss of his closest friend, his mother. I cried for the children who lost their
father, the rock of their family.
In each of these instances, family members who saw the large
crowds in attendance at the funerals have said, “If they [the deceased] could
have only seen the ones they touched with their life. If they could have only heard the expressions of love, or
have heard what they meant to those who shared stories about them…”
This troubles me and makes me ask why? I have learned to try and not to ask
God why in these situations, as hard as it can be, because He has a purpose
that is above our own understanding. But I ask to ‘us’ as a society, I guess… WHY? Why is it this way? Why don’t we let the ones closest to us
know how much we love them? Why
don’t we let them know what an amazing person they are before we lose
them? Why does it take an obituary
or a eulogy at a funeral service to express our truest feelings for those so
close to our hearts?
As most of you reading this know, I have a wife and two
small boys. I would give my life without
hesitance, without question, in their place, as most of us would for the ones
we love… which is possibly the reason this month has hit home so much with
me. What does it hurt to tell them
that we are thankful for them?
What does it hurt to say “Good job, Bud! I’m proud of you.”
It doesn’t hurt at all. In
fact, it does the very opposite.
This job has taught me many things, but I would say that the
greatest thing I have learned is to let Kim, Miles, and Max know that I love
them. No matter how tired I may be
from dealing with everyone else’s losses.
No matter how mad I may be at something I may think is ridiculous at the
time. No matter how I may get
frustrated at the little things my boys may do that seem so huge at the time. I’ve learned to tolerate the frustrations
and end each “scolding”, as rare as they may be, with a hug and an “I love
you.” I’ve learned that if I don’t
say it, we may go on our normal, day-to-day routine one-day, tragedy may strike
and we may never see each other again, and someone may live the rest of their
lives regretting what was left unsaid.
I don’t want for my boys to wonder when I’m gone, if they said enough or
did enough to let me know they loved me.
I want to teach them love.
I remember when my dear friends lost their father several
years ago. Both sons, who are like
brothers to me, spoke at his funeral and one of them said something that stuck
with me. He said, “Dad taught us
how to hug… and not the little ‘pat pat’ on the back hug, but the BIGGEST bear
hugs you can imagine!” That stuck
with me because I remember being on the receiving end of those hugs and how
they made me feel accepted, loved and wanted in his life, even as often as I
crashed their evenings at home and mooched food from his fridge. I want my
sons, and their future friends, to be able to say the same for me one day. That’s a legacy I want to pass on when
I’m gone and for them to pass on to their children. “Dad knew how to hug and wasn’t afraid to say ‘I love
you.’” That’s the greatest thing
they could ever learn.
How hard can it be to take the chaos of this world, the hateful
things that are said and done, and the good that’s left unsaid, and simply turn
it into positive. I guarantee my
job would be made a little easier and there would be less regret sitting at the
table while arranging a loved ones funeral services. Yes, there will still be grief. There will still be sadness, but this is the part where I
reference you to the quote at the very beginning of my ramblings.
… just a thought from a guy that is becoming more and more
sappy with each year that passes.
