Death and dying

Two friends passed away this week. I cried buckets for the one, but was fairly dry eyed for the other. No, I'm not a cold callous person!

The first death was of a man I have known for nearly 11 years, although only as a work colleague. (This is for my corporate America job, so work colleagues are not people I necessarily lay eyes on very frequently, but instead I interact with them via email and phone calls.) I had spoken with Todd just a couple of weeks ago, as he was assisting with part of my large project (the one that is keeping me from blogging!) He was only 36 years old and in fine health. He was killed in a freak car accident which was not his fault at all - he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. If he had been just a few seconds earlier or later, he would still be alive. For him, I cried the buckets. Partially because of the shocking unexpectedness of it, but also because he was so young and just in the early part of his life. He will never see his kids get married, never know his grandkids, and never have all of the other important events that make up a life. For that, and for his young family who didn't get enough time with him, I cried. A lot. I have trouble even blogging about it, let alone trying to speak aloud about it.

The other death was of a lovely Ocracoker named John Thomas O'Neal. He was a sweet, kind, God loving, friendly, welcoming, accepting, encouraging gentleman. He always greeted me at church, making a point to wave me over to where he was seated (he could not walk anymore), take my hand and speak to me for a few minutes. I adored him. And for him, and for his family, I cried too. But not as much. He had lived a FULL life (he was 83 years old). He had seen his kids grow and marry, most of his grandkids grow and marry, and took great joy in his great grandkids. I know he went to heaven to be with the God he loved for all eternity, that he is at peace and no longer in pain, and that I will see him again. I did cry at his funeral, but mostly for his family and friends (me included) who will miss him. For John Thomas himself, I celebrated. His funeral, in fact, was referred to as a celebration of his life. And it was. I was struck by the amazing LEGACY this man had left: two of his grandchildren led much of the service, one singing and playing the guitar (which John Thomas had taught him to do), the other presenting a message not only about his grandfather's life, but also about the grace, mercy and peace of God. It was beautiful to see the fact that John Thomas' legacy of faith lives on, and therefore he is not truly gone from us.

Life is beautiful. Hope yours will be a long one, full of friends, family and love.