You hope it don’t get harmed
Our organization recently lost a dear colleague and friend.
Don Oliver, pictured here with his wife and daughter, passed away after a courageous six-month battle with cancer. He was a kind and gracious man who gave far more than he took. We miss him, and the world is poorer for his loss.
We try to draw a measure of comfort in the knowledge that he’s no longer suffering, and in the belief that he’s now in a better place. Honestly, though, I’m not sure there’s any perspective—not that we’ll see on this side of the divide anyway—that can make us feel okay about a father leaving behind his young child, or parents outliving their son.
I don’t pretend to have answers that make sense of this, but I’m convinced the solace and healing we’re looking for begins in relationship and community.
We experience pain and loss because we form attachments. And we form attachments because the alternative is far, far worse.
Singer-songwriter Regina Spektor, whose lyrics often explore matters of life and death and the search for deeper significance, expresses this more poetically than I can:
This is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some…
Someone else’s heart
Pumping someone else’s blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don’t get harmed
But even if it does
You’ll just do it all again
Life is fleeting. People are precious. Relationships are everything. So keep forming them and keep feeding them. When your friends mourn, mourn with them. When your friends dance, dance with them. Be in community with the people around you.
And even when you’re harmed, do it all again.
Wishing you a peaceful and rejuvenating holiday. See you in the New Year.
