Loss

July brought the unthinkable to two friends of mine. The first, Justin, lost his 19-year-old daughter in a hit-and-run accident. She ran from the woods and onto the highway, where she was struck and killed. No one knows why she was running, and speculation has been rampant. Kalei was a beautiful young woman, sweet, kind, and generous. I knew her when she was younger and we all went to the same church.

Justin was in church today. He hadn’t been in awhile, and I believe it’s likely this event, in part, was what brought him back. Whether he comes again remains to be seen. He saw many friends from when he attended before and met several new people (who didn’t know what had happened but were glad to welcome him back). When I left the fellowship after church, I saw him smiling and talking to some new friends.

Another friend, Sherry Lynn, lost her 29-year-old son, Gavin, in a car accident. He was going around a bend and hit some wet pavement. lost control of his car and flipped over the embankment. He hadn’t been drinking and wasn’t speeding. It was simply a fluke accident, something that could happen to any of us. Gavin had three young children.

Both friends have posted frequently about their loss on Facebook, and I’m proud of them for that. Sharing their pictures and memories helps them and reminds the rest of us, who are so inclined. to keep them in our prayers. Grief is a process and neither Justin nor Sherry Lynn will be all right for a long time. But their friends will be there for them.

In times like these, I fear saying the wrong thing. I remember when my stepdad died, a friend, not knowing what had happened, asked me how my week had been. I told her about it, and her reaction was so thoughtless, so heartless, that I never spoke to her again. My pastor warned me people would say hurtful things, and he was right. I don’t want to be one of those people to any of my friends.

I believe I said the right things to Justin today, and my response to Sherry Lynn, while simple, was probably also okay. A sincere “I’m so sorry for your loss” is likely to be appreciated. What I want to say, what so many of us want to say, is something that will take away even a small portion of the pain. But I don’t know what those words are, so I don’t even try. Doing that could lead to something thoughtless.

I noticed on one of Justin’s Facebook posts a comment from a friend who had also lost a child. It was very practical and straightforward, and one of the few comments Justin responded to, which tells me it meant something to him. I can’t pretend I understand the pain, but some people do.

To those who’ve lost a child, my heart aches for you. To those who haven’t but hold their children a little tighter when they hear of such a loss, I’m grateful for your compassion. I hope we can all support those who are weeping.

Image Credits: Weeping Angel © alesia0604–stock.adobe.com; Sunflowers © Balaraw–stock.adobe.com