It is well

This is Us left a lot of its audience in tears last night as we finally got answers about how Jack died. It was cathartic and healing, at least for me, to spend most of that time in tears. If I had a normal job, I’d have called in saying that I had a death in the family… I mean, that’s totally normal, right? I’m sure I’d have done the same if I were a diehard Patriots fan, too. Sorry, guys. I have a friend from Philly, so they were my team of choice 😉 Even then, I really couldn’t care less about handegg, football, pigskin, Super Bowl, whatever…

Eleven years ago, my Super Monday was very similar to the Pearsons. My best friend from my small hometown called me. I remember not feeling well and going to bed early after the Super Bowl, but I honestly don’t remember if I even watched the big game. I’m kinda apathetic when it comes to sports and have been most of my life. But this particular very early Monday morning, my best friend didn’t just call once. She called several times. She finally left a voicemail. “Karen, when you get this, call me back.”

You know, when you get several phone calls at 1:30 in the morning and a voice message that sounds urgent, you’d better call back. I thought it was going to be something about her or her family. Her little brother was one of my first friends at this school and quickly became like my brother. I could be very protective of him. When I called her back, she’d told me that one of my dearest friends (not her brother) was in a car accident, his injuries were catastrophic, and he didn’t make it.

I could feel my heart break into a thousand pieces right there.

I had called him the week before because my roommate was having car trouble. He was my car guy. He was the only person that wasn’t related to me that I would let drive my little 5 speed Ford Contour SE. I got so mad at him for what I thought was breaking a promise, not realizing he’d been released from said promise. We finally made amends after a very long summer of me being mad at him. I called him to tell him that one of his best friends suddenly passed away. I have memories of hanging out with him, watching MASH, getting ice cream cones from Sonic, driving the “drag” on Friday nights, star gazing in the middle of nowhere. He was a gentle giant, with a deep baritone voice. He gave the best hugs, and he was protective of his tribe. And that Monday morning, he was gone. No more calls to hear how he was doing, to ask him how to handle my car issues, to randomly grab ice cream.

That fateful day led me to a season where I started sinking. I wasn’t sure who I was or who God was. I constantly asked how a God who was supposed to be so loving could take this guy away. It was a very, very tough season.

Here’s the thing with grief. It’s not fair. It’s a beast. And there are days that are so easy, and there are days you can’t breathe because it’s all coming at you over and over again, like a tsunami or the swells from a storm at sea. Every loss is different. There have been some losses for me that have been easy comparatively. But this one hit me at my very core. I couldn’t function. I went to the ER because I couldn’t keep anything down. “You’re just experiencing grief. Physically, you’re ok.” I emailed my professors saying I couldn’t take my tests that week. I had every intention of waking up early to study, but after this phone call, I couldn’t sleep and there was no way I could concentrate enough to study and I already knew I wasn’t gonna go back to sleep. I sat in the papa-san chair in our living room and literally cried to Jesus.

Here’s another thing with grief. It can be very isolating. I was the only one in my house that knew this guy so they couldn’t relate to the grief. I was two hours away from my hometown where my parents no longer lived, and that was hard. I didn’t have a home to go to. I didn’t want to make the drive by myself either, but I didn’t have anyone to go with me (I finally figured out how to make it work with another guy friend but it added time to the drive).

But grief can also be sweet. As I continued to mourn, I felt God’s presence through it all. I could almost literally feel him embracing me as I cried, knowing that my friend was forever gone from this world. I didn’t hear him repeat platitudes, but just being there. A strong, quiet presence letting me know that I was not alone. I kept hearing the promises of New Heaven and a New Earth and the absence of pain and tears when that happens, and the idea of being with Jesus was incredibly comforting then as it is now.

So today, in the wake of an emotionally intense This is Us episode, I’m (once again) crying as I am fondly remembering this friend. I know grief doesn’t end, and we all handle loss differently. Today I’m choosing to remember him with a smile on my face (and a few tears… because emotions!) and a full heart. Bit by bit, the pain lessens and the wounds heal, but he’ll always be a part of my story. Who’s missing from your story that was once there?