Tuesday, November 2, 2010

A Loss

One of my closest friends passed away last night.

Life is too short for so many and too cruel at times to ever really comprehend. It was only four days ago this individual came to my house rather upset. She had been dealt several major blows this year and was just so completely heartbroken that I just didn’t know how to cheer her up. But we talked, we laughed and she left feeling optimistic. She got a job offer just yesterday morning that she was absolutely delighted about and things were starting to look just a little bit brighter.

And now all that’s been put paid to but a cruel twist of fate.

I told my son last night as he too was very fond of her and knew by the tone of the phone call I received that something was wrong.

“It’s not fair, is it?” he asked. “Why does that happen?”

“Nobody can answer that.”

Long after he and Chloe had gone to bed, I was sitting at the table with my head in my hands – expelling some of the pent up upset. My son crept in. I didn’t hear him until his hand was on my arm.

“Are you upset, Dad?”

I hate for my son to see me upset. But I’ve learnt over recent months that an open expression of emotion (both good and bad) is the best thing all round, particularly for a young boy who lost his Mother just a year ago.

“Yes, I am.”

“I’m sad too,” he told me, “But I think I know.”

“Why what?” I asked.

“Why she died. I think it was because she was so sad. And God thought he would be able to make her happy if she went to Heaven.”

My son had seen her very upset when she came to the house the other day, before Chloe decided to take him out and give us some talking space. So he’d witnessed her upset himself. While my own personal standpoint isn’t quite as wonderful and optimistic as my son’s, I like how he thinks. So I told him,”

“I think you’re right.”

“But I don’t think God really realised how sad that might her friends. But she’ll be having fun in Heaven, won’t she?”

It was almost as though he was seeking some reassurance from me that he was right.

“Definitely. She’ll be having a great time and I’m sure she’s happy.”

“It’s late,” he told me, “And you should be in bed, young man,” he continued.

“Are you pretending to be me?” I asked him.

He nodded and laughed. I smiled, tucked him into bed and went to bed myself, grateful for what I have in my life.

I only ever have to look at that boy’s face and know that no matter how unfair life seems at times, I truly am blessed. But that doesn't eradicate the pain of loss, particularly when it's the loss of someone so wonderful. What a complete and utter tragedy and a loss of such a beautiful, fun loving soul.

And to the parents and family of my friend, I am so truly, truly sorry for your loss.


brinda allen said...

Josue... I'm saddened by the pain of your perceived loss. I say perceived because your friend isn't really gone. She had done all she was supposed to do in this life.
Ram Dass had said to his mother as she lay dying that It's like watching a friend in a burning house...the house will be consumed but we will go on forever.

Josue Habana said...

Thank you Brinda.

I do love that quotation...