Today’s blog is not about a person per se. It is about the absence of people. People I love. People I miss. It is about grief.

Grief has been a close companion of mine.

I am writing this as I am preparing to go and officiate a young adult’s funeral, a life tragically and horrifically cut short.

Wendell Berry has become my favorite author over the past 6 years. He says in my favorite book, Jayber Crow, “I saw that for me, this country would always be populated with presences and absences, presences of absences, the living and the dead. The world as it is would always be a reminder of the world that was, and of the world that is to come.”

In Berry’s poem, The Loved Ones, he says:

The Loved ones we call the dead

Depart from us for awhile

Are absent.

And then as if

Called back by our love, they come

Near us again…At last, it comes to us:

They live now in the permanent world

We are the absent ones.

Scripture says to be absent from the body is to present with the Lord.

Ten years ago, my Aunt Wilma, my dad’s sister and the last of seven siblings, died at 97. Her death left me with no living parents, aunts, uncles, or grandparents—a loss that saddened me. In the 25 years since I moved back home, I have lost many family members, including my dad, two brothers, a brother-in-law, and a nephew. I have officiated most of their funerals. My mom died when I was 17, and my grandma died 15 months later.

There are things I miss about each of them. The absence of their presence is felt.

I miss my brother Jerry. When I read through my journals from when I was a kid and teen, I am reminded he is the one I would always talk to about family stuff. He always listened and made me feel like what I felt mattered. He didn’t treat me like a kid. And he let me do some crazy things (like driving a stick shift through the streets of Lorain to pick up pizza at the AGE OF 13!).

In 2020, Bruce released an album called “Letters to You”. It is probably my favorite album of his or at least in the top 3. The whole album is about grief, aging, and loss. He wrote the songs as a reaction to being the last man standing in his original band, The Castilles. I listened to it on repeat that year. We do not talk about grief, aging, and dying enough. I am grateful, he was brave enough to write a whole album working through it all.

The purpose of my blog (Along the Way) is to remember and give thanks to the people in my life, both dead and alive who have impacted my life and taught me valuable lessons along the way. I remember my dad talking with family and friends after a funeral, naming those who have died in the family. They were almost always counted off chronologically. There is a line from a Bruce Springsteen song called “Last Man Standing” and it says “You count the names of the missing as you count off time.”

And now the cousins do that. After a funeral, the cousins sit around a table and count off who is gone, who the oldest cousin is, and who will be the next to go. It sounds morbid but it’s not. We are remembering those before us and acknowledging the brevity of life.

I am not a fan of saying we have lost someone. You lose your keys, your mind, your phone…but you do not lose people. I know where they are. Just because I cannot see them or talk to them now does not mean I have lost them. They are not lost. Their memory is not lost.  Their impact is not lost. Their presence may be absent and we feel the loss of that presence, but they are not lost. We grieve the loss of their physical presence in our lives, but they are not lost.

Death has marked my life. But not in the way you may think.

King Solomon did not shy away from talking about death. He says in the book of Ecclesiastes says “Better to spend your time at funerals than at parties. After all, everyone dies–so the living should take this to heart.”

Counting off the dead is not morbid. It allows us, reminds us to live this life fully. It allows us not to take this one beautiful, messy life for granted.

The 23rd Psalm says, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me”.

I have walked through the valley of the shadow of death many times. Each time, God walked with me. He never left. Each time, I learned to rely on and trust Him more. And instead of living a life of sadness and depression, it has made me enjoy life to the fullest. It has taught me to be grateful for each day I have because I know how fleeting and precious this life is. Living in the shadow of death has pushed me to take risks. Life is too short to wonder “what if?”. Walking through the valley has also taught me to forgive quickly and let go of offenses right away. You have no idea when someone will no longer be with you.

I want you to know that this road of grief I have travelled on has not been an easy one. I skipped Christmas for years. I finally went to grief counseling. Loss hurts. It changes you. But the change can be beneficial and healing to others and make you live your life more fully.

Years ago, I stopped to see an elderly man I respected and loved deeply in the nursing home. He had only been there for a short time. And he knew he was not going home. As I visited with him, he asked me about a certain Scripture in the Bible that talks about Heaven. And he asked what I thought it would be like. And we just talked. And cried. I asked him if he was afraid to die. He said “no but it is not as easy as you think it is when you are younger. When it’s far off, it doesn’t seem real but now…” He didn’t deny he was having a hard time but amid the pain and grief, he honored God. I think that is how we are all supposed to live! Honoring God and people even when it’s hard. He knows he will be with Jesus when he passes and as I prayed for him and said “Amen”, he just continued praying, reciting Psalm 103 “Bless the Lord, o my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy name.” Even in uncertainty and pain, he chose to given thanks to God for the many gifts he had received over the course of his life. In his final days, he chose gratitude.  Death is real. No one gets out alive. Rich, poor, black, white, brown, male, female…no one.

I think King Solomon was onto something in the book of Ecclesiastes. If you live with the end in mind in a healthy, hopeful, purposeful, grateful way, life can be truly enjoyed and savored.

Every summer at the beginning of August, there is the Perseid meteor shower that happens. I remember one year it was supposed to be exceptionally bright. I probably should have slept but 14 of us lay on the beach until 3 in the morning and saw 150+ meteors!!! It was fantastic! As we laid on the beach and told jokes and pointed out the constellations and the north star and marveled at God’s creation, I was overwhelmed with joy, contentment, and gratitude.

You rarely regret the things you do…it’s the things you don’t do that you regret!

Each family member whose funeral I have officiated, I have gotten to know them better and in turn gotten to know myself better. They each left a legacy. Some were ordinary people living quiet, extraordinary lives. I say all of this to say this: Enjoy life. Don’t waste this one life you have been given on things that don’t matter. Love God, love people, take risks, and leave a legacy that adds goodness and kindness to the world.

Grief is a gift. It is proof we have loved and been loved.