As I continue to reflect on the loss of my father, it is easy to think I am unique. Candidly, and with care for my ego, I am far from unique. A good friend lost his father in the same week as I did. Others have lost parents, spouses, siblings, and children. My story is far from unique. In addition to being part of the fabric of life, it is also a story that is retold in every minute somewhere in our greater community.
Creation and death are universal. “Either or both happens to Jews, but it also happens to the other people.” (Romans 9.24). One might ignore it for a time. I know I have. It has been eight years since my mother passed. Like others, not a day goes by that I am not reminded of my mom. I see her smile. I hear her laugh. I experience her love of food. In this new season of pain, I know others are walking the path with me.
Death can give way to hope. In working with my brothers to write my father’s eulogy, I found myself remembering and embracing the best things he gave us during his life. Commitment, love, adventure, friendship, loyalty, charity, and a willingness to do what others thought impossible is just the beginning. Each theme and every characteristic is within my ability to carry on. There is an opportunity to take his life and bring it to new generations. They may not know his name, but they will experience his belief, respect, and engagement in living life to the maximum.
Life calls us to be in the present. Pain, anger, and revenge are often natural outcomes of death. I hear a calling to bring comfort and fresh hope to those in pain. I see a need for a loving embrace. I know everyone deserves Divine compassion. There is no us or them. We are a family, sharing in our struggle to live. We need each other. Now is the time to break down what separates. A better future is possible.
