Round the House and Mind the Dishes

Yesterday, I received one of those dread phone calls.

My friend Rey called me to tell me of the death of our mutual friend, B-. He did away with himself. He was 42 years old.

Out of respect for the departed, I can't go into details. I will only say there will be no viewing at the wake or funeral.

B- was found by his partner under the most ghastly circumstances. As a result, B-'s partner is now in the hospital. Himself is presently the source of much worry to Rey and Angela. He is refusing visitors and food and seems to have given up on life, at least for now.

Rey and Angela were much closer to B- than I was. He was a frequent visitor to their home and that's where I got to know him. He doted on their grandkids and the grandkids on him. He took them on all kinds of outings and always had some toy or trinket for them when he came to visit. Their shrieks of delight as they searched his pockets and person for treasure never failed to set the grownups themselves into shrieks of delight. He stood up for Consuela, Rey's oldest grandchild.

I'd like to post the sympathy letter I sent to Rey and Angela this morning on behalf of my family. I don't know what else to say about all this. I feel I should say something but I'm still in a bit of a shock. Writing to Rey and Angela was very soothing for me. I hope it will bring them some shred of peace.

Dearest Friends:

Our hearts ache with yours.

We send you our profound sympathy and condolences at the loss of B-.

We know how loss devastates, especially a loss so inexplicable. There is a paradox in times like these. Just as it seems events have slipped from the control of the Master of the universe, our sorrow compels us to believe even more firmly in the power of our Master. We pray you will be delivered His peace and His understanding.

While no words can bring perfect consolation, we hope you may take comfort in the familiar tone of the Psalms -
"Weeping may endure for a night,
but joy cometh in the morning."

Peace be with you, Angela and Rey, just as we are with you. Always.

The older I get, the more practice I have in writing letters of condolence. Now, I can toss them off in the time it takes to finish off a cup of coffee.

That doesn't mean they aren't sincere or genuine, just that the emotions of grief and loss and sorrow are very close to the surface now.

I've even thought about the music I want played at my funeral. My father was not much older than I am now when he passed and I can't tell you what a load he lifted from us with the arrangements he'd made for his wake and funeral. I'm sure it will sound strange to hear this, but we had a ball at his wake. And at his funeral there was the weeping and wailing and rending of garments so familiar to the Irish funeral-goer, all of it foreseen and allowed for by my Dad's estimates.

Also, three fights in the parking lot, beating the previous funeral record by one fight.

So, my friends, let there be no tear-dimmed eyes. Lets dance and drink and make the little kids shriek. Who knows when we'll come this way again?