Finding Joy in Sadness

I can’t imagine losing your child. Our kids aren’t supposed to go before we do. I’ve seen it happen, quite a few times and it is heartbreaking.

My best friend’s son died yesterday. He’s just a couple of years younger than my son. I’ve known him all of his life. He was such a good man, son, and father. Everyone is no doubt wondering “why.” We can’t answer that question, not really, but I like to think that because he was so special he was needed above. He’s making a fantastic Angel. And when he’s not busy helping others, he’ll be fishing with his grandfather, his grandmother rocking in her chair, crocheting, with a huge smile on her face.

Meanwhile, his parents, children, and friends grieve. His warm arms will not hold us as they did before. He was a great hugger, and he was kind enough to share them with me when my son is so far away. He worked so hard and loved so deeply, what a huge hole his absence is making in the world. It’s still so hard to believe he is gone from us.

I loved his laugh and I can appreciate a good one. He laughed with his whole body and that’s the only way to do it and do it right.

Watching him with his kids was amazing. And listening to his mother share stories of him painting the girl’s toenails really cracked me up. His patience with his sons showed his love for them, I hope they never forget it. With four kids and two jobs, he didn’t get much time for himself, but he didn’t seem to mind. I’m told he was a great cook and grill master, knowing just what to do with spices to make everything taste good. I’m sure his experiments worked out much better than my “creative cooking” ever could.

When you’ve lost someone so special, you can’t help but feel empty. The tears never stop and everything hurts. Nothing works to make that feeling of loss and pain go away. Except, maybe time, but I doubt it. You grow a scab and a memory may tear it off. Eventually, the good memories outweigh the sad ones and you laugh. God, I loved his laugh, it was so contagious and heartfelt. That’s the part I will remember, his laugh, and his bear hugs. We love you, Shawn.