Glad To Be In The Service

I went to a funeral today for a guy I knew. He and his wife both went to college with me. I didnt know him as well as some other folks did, but I knew him a little better than I knew her. We had the same friends and we chopped it up whenever we saw each other, but I cant say I ever got a chance to know personal things about him, and the little querks he had, the way you get to know a friend. I did know, however, that he was sweet as pie, loved his wife like America's freedom depended on it, and every kind word uttered about him today was well-deserved.

He lied in repose next to his stepson - the two caskets side by side in the front of the church. I had wondered if the family would do that: present a joint service for this man and the stepson who killed him. I worried that someone might not be able to handle it, but no fouls were called and actually, no one had a bad word to say about the son either. "No violent tendencies" they said. "Talented, intelligent, funny and loved" were all among the words used to describe him. The first line of his obituary in the program read "My baby was not a monster." I never had an opportunity to meet him, but all that being said, how the hell did we come to be here today? What in the hell happened in that house that night? I'll never ask. Some things are not my business. I know all I need to: another good man is gone, another young life will never reach its full potential, and everyone - family and strangers alike - SHOULD mourn for those reasons alone.

I wish you all had known this couple. Anytime your belief in true, honest love waned, you would look at them and be reassured that it is possible. It does exist. I was such a groupie of their relationship. He loved her more than I have ever seen a man love a woman, and it was reciprocated tenfold. Love was all over these people, and it beamed off of them, anytime you saw them together. I cannot imagine the pain this woman will carry for the rest of her life, knowing that the man she loved more than her next breath was taken from her by the hands of her own son, who then took his own life. Now they are BOTH gone. I dont care what your son your does - if you possess a mother's love for him, you will ache at just the THOUGHT of something so tragic happening to him. I only pray she gains the strength she needs to continue to be the mother she needs to be for their three surviving children, and I hope she never lets them forget the father this guy was to them.

I havent been to church in a couple of months, after a pretty consistent run of Sundays. I love my church for a lot of reasons, but the pastor has to be #1. He preaches his sermon the way you and I would speak to each other. Aint no screaming and heavy breathing and jumping around like some other pastors do. He just gives you the message on a level that even those not biblically trained can understand. Jokes, props, whatever it takes. I looked around today as he was speaking, feeling so comfortable and at home, glad to be back in the building, despite the reason for being there, and I thought to myself: I wonder if people keep dying because its the only time some people see the inside of a church.

I dont need that kinda reason, Lord, I'll be back on Sunday.