On Wednesday, an old high school classmate lost her father in a plane crash.
I haven't spoken to this classmate in years, and have only known anything about her life from occasional status updates on facebook. I never met her dad, and I never had a close relationship with her.
But I felt crushed by the news all the same.
Ever since my own dad's death, I find myself so much more affected by loss. (Don't tell anyone, but I sometimes cry when reading the newspaper. Embarrassing, I know!)
I sat down at the computer to send my classmate a little facebook message- to tell her I understood sudden and unexpected death. To tell her I was sorry. To tell her that she'd be okay. That she should look for the blessings that come from this.
Somehow I couldn't say any of that. Because I remember all of those things being said to me, and I remember none of it helped. I was sad, and I felt cheated and neglected, and nothing that anyone else said would help these feelings go away. Looking back now on the tragedy of my dad's death, it doesn't seem so much a "tragedy", but rather an opportunity for growth and learning. I thought of telling this girl of all the blessings I have seen since my dad's death. I thought of telling her of the closer relationship with my mom, as we have had to cling to each other in my dad's absence. Or of my greater understanding of the purpose and the power of prayer. Or of my hope for the resurrection. I thought of mentioning to her that I have greater compassion and sympathy for others who struggle and are in pain, and that that has served me in all aspects of my life.
I even considered mentioning to her that I have a greater appreciation for men and the roles they play in our lives. Interestingly enough, I don't know if I would have married Hubs without the sorrow, the vulnerability, the emptiness that my dad's death left with me. I think I would have kept playing around, acting irresponsibly, dating losers, and trying to never grow up. But when my dad left, my whole perspective changed. I wanted stability, I wanted love, I wanted strength- not fun, adventure, and freedom.
But, of course, I couldn't say any of that to my classmate. She is hurting too much to understand these blessings that will come.
But they will come.
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I haven't spoken to this classmate in years, and have only known anything about her life from occasional status updates on facebook. I never met her dad, and I never had a close relationship with her.
But I felt crushed by the news all the same.
Ever since my own dad's death, I find myself so much more affected by loss. (Don't tell anyone, but I sometimes cry when reading the newspaper. Embarrassing, I know!)
I sat down at the computer to send my classmate a little facebook message- to tell her I understood sudden and unexpected death. To tell her I was sorry. To tell her that she'd be okay. That she should look for the blessings that come from this.
Somehow I couldn't say any of that. Because I remember all of those things being said to me, and I remember none of it helped. I was sad, and I felt cheated and neglected, and nothing that anyone else said would help these feelings go away. Looking back now on the tragedy of my dad's death, it doesn't seem so much a "tragedy", but rather an opportunity for growth and learning. I thought of telling this girl of all the blessings I have seen since my dad's death. I thought of telling her of the closer relationship with my mom, as we have had to cling to each other in my dad's absence. Or of my greater understanding of the purpose and the power of prayer. Or of my hope for the resurrection. I thought of mentioning to her that I have greater compassion and sympathy for others who struggle and are in pain, and that that has served me in all aspects of my life.
I even considered mentioning to her that I have a greater appreciation for men and the roles they play in our lives. Interestingly enough, I don't know if I would have married Hubs without the sorrow, the vulnerability, the emptiness that my dad's death left with me. I think I would have kept playing around, acting irresponsibly, dating losers, and trying to never grow up. But when my dad left, my whole perspective changed. I wanted stability, I wanted love, I wanted strength- not fun, adventure, and freedom.
But, of course, I couldn't say any of that to my classmate. She is hurting too much to understand these blessings that will come.
But they will come.
