Rest for the Gentle Giant

Yesterday, I watched my best friend, my husband Josh, carry the casket that held one of his dearest friends from his younger years.

There was a time where they were inseparable, so I'm told. He and his friend Brian went to school and church together, they were neighbors, and spent a lot of time together. The stories that those boys have of the trouble they got into are now priceless memories, stored away in Josh's heart.

Brian went in for a heart surgery recently and the family expected him to bounce back as always, but he didn't. There was a complication, an infection, that left all of us watching him, and waiting, holding our breath for good news. Just when we thought things were looking up finally, is when Brian's body took the fatal plunge toward his death.

I knew Brian from school as well, he was my age. I met him first, in Jr. High, he was in my homeroom class and you couldn't miss this incredibly tall boy. I learned later that his Marfan syndrome was the reason for his abnormal tallness.(as well as the reason for him needing critical surgeries for his lungs and heart throughout his life) I never saw his syndrome get in the way of making friends easily though. He was the kindest boy. I had a rough start to Jr. High with an appendix surgery one week into school. Coming back, I had to wear weird looking comfortable clothes and I walked funny. It was embarrassing. But it didn't stop Brian from being one of the few, sweetest people to me, befriending me at such an awkward time in my life. We were in band together as well, something in which I was very involved in, and so was he. I have those memories of Brian.

For my husband, his memories went so much deeper. As I've been watching him grieve this loss, stories have been coming up about his relationship with him. Brian was probably the only one of his friends that actually challenged him when it came to Josh's "early preachings" of philosophy. Brian was always quick to encourage Josh to not believe all the things he hears from people's mouths, that he needs to do his own research. (and yes... these are Jr. High/Highschool boys debating these things :) ) Of course, the challenges annoyed Josh at the time, but as an adult, Josh saw the benefit of having a friend like that, making him think for himself, finding actual truth, especially for an aspiring pastor who desires to teach Truth. During the funeral yesterday, Josh was able to thank Brian for that as he spoke to everyone about his dear friend.

As I watched Josh's hand rest on the casket, my heart hurt so much for him. Josh took the bar on the side, along with 5 other gentlemen, and they slowly, ever so carefully, carried Brian's body to it's final resting place.

Watching Brian's family and his fiancee standing stiff with grief, not able to move, not wanting him to be gone still, I couldn't help myself but to have flashbacks of Brian, but also flashbacks of what it felt like losing my dad, my cousins, and my daughter. Their fear was real. Frightened of what life would be like without him. Frightened they may forget.

Truth is.. you don't forget. Grief is a life-long process... there is hope and sorrow in that because you don't ever forget them, with all it's joy and all it's pain. But better to have both than neither of them at all.

The pastor, at the burial ceremony, spoke of his moments in the hospital, searching for how to comfort the family when Brian passed. He said, "What kind of a pastor am I, when I don't have words to say?" That made me smile because in his humility, he revealed the very sweet nature of the Spirit moving him to say nothing. What kind of a pastor are you? A wonderful one, because there is nothing to say in those first moments. Simply being there and crying with them is so much more comforting than anything that can be said. They all know the Truth though.. we will see Brian again.

When Josh was speaking at the ceremony, he ended his time by saying, "No more surgeries or pain, no more Marfan, but he will always be the gentle giant he always was."