Tom's Funeral

The funeral for my friend Tom was Saturday. It's taken me a couple days to process it, and the truth is I expect I'll be processing his life and his death for a long time to come. I've seen a lot of crazy, sad things in my 35 years, and it takes a lot to jolt me. This did.

It should be easier for me to process the funeral, but this is one of those unfortunate cases where being a pastor hurts rather than helps. This was my first Presbyterian worship of any kind, and during the funeral I kept noticing things they did differently from what I was used to. The 'normal' people there may or may not have been doing the same thing- we all come with expectations, and so maybe everyone else thought those thoughts. I dunno. But I sure did. "Huh, that's different," or "Wow, I liked that part" or "Hey, I really miss this part." All technical, worship leadership thoughts that I really could have lived without. I was there to celebrate and grieve and worship, not attend a seminar on funerals. But the thoughts came anyway.

Tom's wife asked me to do a prayer in the funeral. It came after his best friend, his two brothers and his dad spoke. They all made it through without breaking down. Me, I sobbed my way through. Ironic, isn't it? The four people who never speak in churches got through theirs just fine, while the guy who does it for a living blubbered. Right up to the moment I started talking I thought I was fine, and that I would be able to do it without crying. Afterwards, I told my wife that and she said "I knew you weren't fine." I wish I had, but even if she had told me I wouldn't have believed her. I don't always listen when I should.

After a funeral, there's really not that much else for anyone but immediate family to do. Life pretty much gets back to normal for us. They're the ones who have to get rid of his clothes, sort through the paperwork, and figure out what to do with his comic book collection. That's messy, awful stuff that I don't wish on anyone. So we're going to help with the house, and we're going to keep the kids every couple weeks so his wife can do this stuff. At this point, all we can do is support them. So that's what we'll do. And gradually, over time, I suppose my Dad will once again be proved right. I asked him once how he got over his Dad dying, and he said you never really get over it. You just get used to the pain.

I do believe that someday I will see Tom again. I look forward to that. I look forward to the day when death will be no more. When weeping and crying and pain will be no more (Revelation 21:3-4). I'm looking forward to that a great deal. And until then, I guess I'll just keep processing. Keep praying for God to help me deal with it all, and for all who loved Tom to do the same.

Peace.

Terrible Start to the New Year

My friend Tom died this morning. He was about my age, 35 or so, married with a couple kids. Their daughter is one year older than mine, their son the same. Finding out about his death was one of those moments you never forget. My wife was on a run, the kids were downstairs watching Sesame Street, and I was upstairs playing a computer game when a neighbor knocked on the door. He's a police officer and looked official, so I thought maybe there was a creep in the neighborhood or some robberies. I never imagined this. He said he had been at the family's home and had seen the invitation we sent them to my daughter's birthday party on Sunday, and he knew we were both pastors, so he thought we should know so we could maybe help. Which is very nice of him, and I appreciated hearing about it from a friend. It was one of those moments where everything changes. When I sat down at the computer this morning, my world was very different from what it is now as I type this. It's surreal.

I saw Tom Sunday night. We had a fun time watching what turned out to be a very painful football game for me as his beloved Philadelphia Eagles thrashed my beloved Dallas Cowboys with a playoff berth on the line. He enjoyed it a lot, though. Good for him. Today as I grieved I ate the last of the pizza that we shared that night. I went to get out some tupperware, and there was the tupperware I forgot to return to him that night. I opened the fridge, and there was a jar of his soup. The dude was always making huge vats of soup and always looking for someone to give some to. I was always happy to oblige. I'll miss that. There are a lot of things I'm going to miss.

I'm angry. I'm sad. I'm having trouble believing it's real. I've cried. I'm crying as I type this. It hurts. And I can only imagine how much worse it hurts for his family, his children. Mine were running around today being silly and I thought "He's never going to see this again." It broke my heart. Ugh. It's just terrible.

So I ask for prayers: for Tom's family, for his wife and kids and mom and dad and brother. For myself and all of us who were and are his friends. And pray that the New Year gets better, because it really sucks so far.