It's a Small Town, After All

We stood in line for somewhere between one and two hours at the visitation for Colby Smith. Friends, relatives, those from shool and from work, citizens who knew him or knew of him waited patiently talking to one another. What does one say at a time like this. A young, successful man in the prime of his life dies suddenly, tragically and there really are no answers. The family seemed so composed that they were the ones consoling the well-wishers. We were grieving and still are. We are grieving as much for his wife and children as we are for ourselves. We cannot explain and it is seemingly impossible to understand what seems like a senseless loss of life. In one foolhardy moment a life is taken from this world and the ripple is felt throughout the community. I have sat by the bedside of my uncle, who died after crushing his skull in a car accident. He lived for 9 days before he died. We had some time to grieve before the burial. My mother, though, never recovered. She would die almost exactly five years later. Some of us go on, giving in to the sadness, the anger, the doubt at inexplicable times. Some of us bury our feelings, which still find a way out at times in the form of tears, anger, depression, and withdrawal. Those with a stronger faith seem to find a way to cope, sometimes even driven to greater pursuits to honor the dead, and to prove something to themselves. Others give up or stay in a funk that doesn't allow them to move beyond the pain. The pain never leaves, but we can move on with Christ's help and the help of family, friends and loved ones. Sometimes the faith and hope seem eons away, but even as far off as the stars are, they give a glimmer in the sky and shine the brightest when it is the darkest. At least it is something to hang onto when it seems as if tomorrow will never come.