Goodbye Friend
07.12.08 - 09:34am
Last weekend, I said goodbye to a friend.
I knew her from high school and she was only 29. Another friend had called me and told me the news and I was in shock. Everyone was in shock. I had just spoken with her at our high school reunion last December and now, none of us would have the opportunity to speak to her again. It’s the “never” that just hits you, a permanence and certainty that rings loudly in a silent room.
In the last year and a half, I’ve noticed an increasing number of people passing away. I don’t know if they are becoming more obvious because of my own experience of sudden, unexpected loss, or perhaps it’s just a normal progression of growing older and others around who are growing even older, or maybe it’s something else. I thought it gets easier especially having been through it and in some ways it does, but in other ways it doesn’t. You still struggle to try to say the right things and attempt not to offend and perhaps are overly cautious and sensitive to the situation because it’s better to err on the careful side.
What I have noticed, however, is that those who don’t know the person well don’t quite have that concern for tact and this increases by the degree of their dis-connection to the person.
My friend left this Earth under tragic circumstances. There are some facts, but many more speculations. The verdict still has not been established on what really happened, yet people seemed to read and hear what they want to hear and jump to conclusions (journalists are good at encouraging that). Some of those speculations included the disclosure of medical information, which I thought was inappropriate to share especially in a public context; out of respect for the family and for her, careful attention should have been paid to sharing private and medical details.
What was even more disheartening were the insensitive people who interpreted the situation they way they wanted and said things, especially criticisms, that they wouldn’t have said if the same thing had happened to their own child, relative, or friend. But the thing is…
She was someone’s child.
She was someone’s relative.
She was someone’s friend.
Yet that sense of decency just went out the door.
What I’ve learned from my experience serving as a juror in a criminal case and from working with college students with personal issues is that there’s always more to the story. Many of us who knew her are still searching for the answers and the rest of the story, but we may never know what actually happened that day.
Regardless, all those details are insignificant now and that should not have been the focus. What is significant is that she’s gone.
What we do know is that in that standing room only chapel of family and friends where we remembered her compassion, intelligence, kindness, and motivation, she left touching our lives and the lives of many others in some way.
As one of the speakers at the memorial said:
We don’t have control over the length of our lives, but we do have control over its depth and breadth.
And that’s what’s important - celebrating the depth and breadth of the person’s life.
Speak Your Peace