I just
attended a friend's brother's funeral.
A man I never knew but in the course of a beautiful hour-long service,
grew to know who he really was. I
think people know us as we go through life but when opportunities arise like
this when friends and families get a chance to testify, so to speak, the
"realness" comes out.
We all
have someone like John in our families.
You do, I do. It is out of sincere respect for John and those like John
that I write this.
John was
just over fifty years old when he passed.
He lived his last few days in assisted living after years of suffering
from an emotional, psychological illness.
He had a typical childhood, played sports in high school, traveled with
his loving family, considered his father a hero and held his mother near to his
heart.
The small
Baptist church was crowded with family and friends, members of the church where
the services were held as well as from other churches he was affiliated with
over the years.
As those
at the service got up to say a little something about John, his life began to
take form. In reading between the
lines, he was quite a character.
His quirks and idiosyncrasies were widely known and there was so much
more meaning beyond the interruptions at meetings, constant questioning, and
lengthy phone calls at all hours of the day and night. He was truly a constant
in every life he touched.
The
stories unfolded and his life took shape.
I found out that his smile was that of a toothpaste commercial and that
he had a dry sense of humor, was intelligent, had a photographic memory, was
reliable and trustworthy and made people think beyond their typical doctrines
and beliefs. He was also extremely caring and often prayed to remember to be
considerate of others and to be a better friend, son and brother.
Initially,
I felt that people simply humored him or, worse, tolerated him but in reality
he truly was an important part of their lives. Many who gave touching testimonies, mentioned the empty
chair where he once sat, missing his presence, no longer being able to rely on
his unique ability to quote chapter and verse. I did get a sense of genuine loss and the realization of whom
John truly was.
It was
amazing that within just an hour, John's life was appropriately described as he
should be remembered not how he appeared to be. There were good-natured, gentle laughter and heart-felt tears along with lots of warm smiles.
In our
family, there was Uncle Stanley, my grandmother’s brother. I only saw him a few times as a kid but
never really knew him, being wrapped up with the self-absorbed nature of
adolescence. How unfortunate.
Grandma never spoke much about him but occasionally I would catch her
tearing up, knowing what a tortured life he led.
He would
visit my grandmother from time to time at our house in Wantagh, New York, where
she lived with us for many years.
I have clear visions of them sitting at our small wooden kitchen table talking
quietly and somberly. He was the
youngest and she cared deeply for him.
Uncle
Stanley spent time in Bellevue, the New York City psychiatric hospital. I remember passing its tall, bleak
ominous structure with barred windows on trips into the city. At the end, he lived by himself in a
small apartment in Brooklyn where they found him dead. I never really knew the story but there
wasn’t
much talk about the how’s and why’s. It just
happened and he was buried. He
didn’t
have the testimonies from a church full of friends and families, just silent
grief and tears from his older sister.
According
to my grandmother, he wasn’t always like that. He was the life of the party, dashing,
enjoyed camping, fishing and driving fancy cars. He was also married once and
had a little girl whom he lost contact with over the years. What happened along the way?
My
grandmother had a term for Uncle Stanley and people like him. She called them “lost souls” .... those among us who are constantly wondering, wandering,
searching and wanting to belong …. deeply saddened by it all.
So … John, Stanley and all the lost souls … be at peace now that
you are no longer lost but in a place that recognizes and embraces your own
unique greatness. Know that you
were valued, cared about
and made a difference in people’s lives. God
bless you. God bless you. Be at peace.
