When the Words Just Don't Come...

Losing someone is never easy.  When my grandfather died last week, we felt sadness, heartache, and loss.  But my grandfather was 98 years old and had led a long and wonderful life--so while the sadness hung over us, there was also a sense of calm, knowing that his spirit was finally free and that he was no longer in any pain.  While I had come to grips with the situation, I wasn't prepared for the sense of loss and sadness my boys felt. 

Both of my boys had the honor of being pall bearers for his funeral.  The image of them carrying the casket with the rest of the men in our family was such a strong one, I almost wanted to capture it with my camera.  I know, some will consider me morbid for such thoughts...but the respect and dignity they demonstrated while taking our grandfather to his final resting place made me so proud of them. And while they demonstrated such strength, it was at the very end when they just couldn't hold back the tears any longer.  Final farewells are so difficult.

So when we received the word that one of my son's hockey teammates had been killed in an accident just a few days later, it was almost too much.  Only days after saying our goodbyes to our beloved grandpa OJ, the news of Kelly's death took the breathe out of our bodies.

While I had been able to reconcile OJ's death as a blessing, Kelly's death was a different story.  Parents should never have to bury their children...and yet we were faced with the fact that two friends were now going to have to do exactly that.

Kelly was 12 years old and a great goalie.  Hockey was his life, as it was his father's.  While he may not have been large in size, his life was...and the family and friends he left behind now have a hole that will not easily be filled. 

Once again I had to watch as my son allowed the tears to flow.  He had held it together all week--almost worrying me at times--but entering the wake and seeing Kelly's family greeting all their guests; viewing the photos that lined the funeral home walls; smelling the amazing scent of the many flowers--so may of them in the shape of hockey jerseys and hockey sticks; it made the loss of Kelly real. 

We arrived just an hour after the wake began and there was already a line out the door and into the parking lot.  When we left three hours later, the line continued, but went through the parking lot and down a side street.  Players wearing jerseys from the Vikings, St. Rita, St. Jude, the Hawks and other teams filled the funeral home and the line out the door.  Seeing these young men, ages 8 to 30, and the sadness in their eyes, was almost too much. 

Tomorrow will be more difficult...final goodbyes are never easy.  I am so sad for Kelly's family and I am sad that our young boys have to experience the loss of one of their own.  It is tough to know what to say; how to explain the reality of all of this to my son.  The fact is, as much of a writer that I think I am, the words just won't come to me to know what to say.

What do you say when the words just don't come?