The afternoon I went to a funeral visitation of the wife, of a man who has always been kind to me. I don't know this man well, but He has been a jokester when I have been around him, but today wasn't a day for jokes. Before you read any further please be aware this is a heavy post, and it is one I will not no I can't apologize for. This post isn't fun or lighthearted there's plenty of time and room for that. Friends this isn't that post, and if sadness makes you uncomfortable, PLEASE give yourself permission to keep scrolling. Sincerely I mean that You see this man's wife died in her forties leaving behind 5 kids of all ages and her husband. She died of colon cancer..... When I heard this news it wasn't that I wanted to go and comfort this man, oh part of me did... The part that does not want him and his family to feel they are alone. You see I know what it is to love someone and lose someone to the Hell that is colon cancer. I know what it is to be sad and confused 5 days before my 32nd birthday because of the fact colon cancer took my biggest fan. I lost my mom, and a couple years later a classmate who was 32 at the time to cancer I spent so many nights after everyone went to bed softly crying wondering how my brother would ever be able to survive to lose our mother in his late 20s was unthinkable to me. How would I ever survive even losing her at 32? So then today when I saw a nine-year-old boy slumped over in a chair surrounded by people probably only a handful of which he knew their names, dealing with the cold reality that his mom was not there, I remembered the brain fog I felt at my mom's visitation, and how much it hurt when people said, well at least they were expecting it. Nothing hurt more than those words to me. I knew what they meant and even if they were right, it never brought me comfort. What did bring me comfort was hearing how my mom made people laugh. I was comforted by people saying how much my mom's students loved her. My Pastor's wife, told me somehow things would be ok, and I found so much comfort in those words. 5 days later my Pastor sent me a funny birthday card, which I still have 4 years later.
What could I have said today to this man grieving the loss of his wife, the mother of his children? I could have said, You will find happiness again. I could have said life is unfair and hard. I could have said, I'm praying for him, and I am, but even that seemed hallow. I spoke only two words to this man. Those words were I'm sorry. In those words I meant, I'm sorry cancer stole the women you love. I'm sorry your children know the pain of seeing their mom slip away. I'm sorry the sky isn't filled with sunsets. I'm sorry the days are long, but the nights are even longer. Sometimes though less means more, and I said I'm sorry. There is something I wish I'd said though. Something far more powerful Jesus is here. I don't know this man's spiritual beliefs, but one thing I know is, knowing Jesus is here in the hurt matters! As you face life's dark places, has to know The Maker of your Sunset is here in your pain made a difference in and for you? Part of me didn't want to relieve the pain of almost 5 years ago, but I knew God never wastes our pain, and so if an ounce of compassion can comfort a man just by showing up, it is worth any discomfort it may cause me.
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