The Right Words

I read of the death of a friend's son with shock and great sadness.  I sent condolences and prayers but couldn't help thinking how, when you need them the most, words are so damnably useless and faith is shallow.  Heaven may indeed be a better place, if you believe, but it doesn't fill the empty space where a child should be.  It doesn't heal your heart or lessen the pain. I can't think how often I've wondered at God's will in taking children, even grown children with families of their own and I find myself thinking about how there are things that happen to us - unimaginable things - that we learn to live with but never truly recover from.  Neither words nor faith can make this better.

My daddy would've found the right words, I think a little bitterly, would've known what to say to bring some small measure of comfort, would've guided the family gently through the grief and anger.  He understood sadness and sorrow better than anyone I've ever known and didn't question why a dreadful thing happened, just helped others through it.  

If I can lift just a little of their burden.... he once told me and I got selfishly and thoughtlessly angry, demanding to know why, beyond his professional duties, he should be the one to carry their pain, as if he would be less sad if someone else stepped in.  He gave me a surprised and slightly wounded look and I felt his disappointment.  It's what I do, he said quietly, To make things a little easier for those who are suffering. It's what we should all do.  I didn't understand then but even so his words shamed me.

Death is senseless and greedy and neither words nor faith can make it better.   Bless those who reach out a hand and try.