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A Narrative of Grief

It was one of the few moments in my life when I felt completely broken.

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A Narrative of Grief

For the past two months, I've been telling myself that I was going to write a post about grief. I told myself that if I wrote it down and shared it, it would help ease the pain. While I knew this to be somewhat true, actually sitting down to write was much harder than I expected. But I know in the deepest part of me that the only way to feel better is to say the words that I'm afraid to say, to share my deepest pain with others, so that my burden might be lessened, and that someone might read this story and find some fraction of hope. Now, I don't know if either of those things will actually happen, but I know that I have to give it a try.

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About two months ago, I came home from an exhausting family trip expecting to rest up and recuperate to prepare to return to work on Monday. Instead, that night I ended up laying on my bedroom floor and staring at the ceiling for hours, feeling as if I had been hit by a freight train. That evening, I had received a call that a dear friend of mine had passed away, and I was absolutely shocked by the news. I never saw it coming, and after it happened, I couldn't fathom a world in which my friend Rich didn't exist.

For days I tried to get it through my head that he was gone. I repeated it in my head to try to get the news to sink in- it didn't. It didn't sink in until I got to the funeral home and I saw him one last time. Despite how much I had told myself that I would keep it together, I couldn't control the depth of my pain and sorrow over what had happened. I sobbed uncontrollably, and I remember feeling my throat closing up, feeling like I couldn't breathe. I didn't know how to accept what had happened to my friend. I didn't know how to want to keep moving forward In a world that he no longer lived in. My head hurt from thinking so much, from crying nonstop. For imagining all of these moments that would never happen because he was gone. It was one of the few moments in my life when I felt completely broken.

A few days after the funeral, I began writing down all of the things I loved about my friend Rich. From losing loved ones before, I knew all too well that after someone is gone for a while, you start to forget all of the little things about them as memories start to fade with time. I didn't want to forget Rich, and all of the memories we shared. I never want to forget all of the little things about my friend that made him who he was. Here are some things you need to know about my dear friend:

My friend Rich was a kind man. He extended care and compassion to others often, and his concern for others was plentiful. His kindness radiated much like his smile did- just as you couldn't help but smile too, it was hard to not want to extend kindness to others just as he did.

My friend Rich was a funny guy. A majority of the things he said were jokes, and he was always making everyone laugh-including himself. I loved the way that he cracked jokes with my mother, and I loved the banter he engaged in with my family and I. Time spent with Rich was never dull, but rather full of joy and laughter.

My friend Rich was not only my friend, but he was also a loving mentor. He encouraged me throughout the years of our friendship, through the end of my high school years and through my journey in college towards my future career. He provided sound advice with care, but also honesty. He wasn't afraid to tell me something I didn't want to hear if he knew it would benefit me. I looked up to him, and treasured his advice and counsel- on everything from school to faith to relationships. He provided a caring voice of reason and lasting support.

My friend Rich was a loving man. His care and compassion for others did not cease at arms length- he welcomed people in, and went above and beyond for the people that he loved. I was always sure of the depth of love in his heart for my family and I simply from his actions. He didn't merely vocalize his love for others, he put it into action so much that you never needed to question the depth of his heart.

My friend Rich was not just my friend, he was my family. Though we shared no blood relation, he had become family to me. I cared for him as if he were a direct member of my family, and he did the same for me. Every moment I spent with him was treasured and meaningful, and I was grateful for every second. We prayed together, celebrated together, experienced sadness together, and so many more small moments In between. When I heard the news, I wept, knowing that a beloved member of my family had passed on.

My friend Rich was not only my friend, but the friend and family of many. He will be missed by all of the people he touched in his life, which I can assume are too numerous to count. I will miss his bright smile and his joyful laugh. I will miss our friendship and conversation, and I will forever be thankful for the memories and laughter that we shared. I will continue to treasure everything about my friend Rich within my heart until I am able to see him once again. I'm sure he will have plenty of things to joke about by then.

One of my favorite things about my friend rich was that every Sunday morning, as I walked up the stairs to church, he would be waiting with his arms wide, ready to accept me in with open arms and remind me that I was loved and supported. I will carry this image in my mind and my heart forever because I truly feel that this picture describes the honest character of my dear friend. He welcomed people in and he loved them well- much like what God does for us. He welcomes us in with open arms right where we are, right as we are. I think that my Friend Rich was a living example of God's love, and I feel so incredibly blessed to have been able to experience it for the time that he was here.

It's been two months since Rich left us. I think I've cried more tears in the past two months than I ever have. I've been filling my days with activities to keep me busy- so that I don't have time to sit and think about him, to be left alone with only his absence to surround me and swallow me whole.

Honestly, I still haven't gotten quite used to the idea that he isn't here anymore, and I don't know if I ever will. There have already been so many things that have happened to me that I've longed to tell him. I've thought about what he might have said, or the way he probably would have hugged me and encouraged me.

I've been telling myself that I will wake up one day and it will all make sense, that I'll know why this happened and it won't hurt anymore. But I've lived enough life, and grieved enough times to know that it won't. It's never going to make sense, and it will never be fair that He had to leave us so early and quickly. And I know that there will never be a day when it won't hurt. There won't be a day when I don't long to run up to him and hug him and tell him everything that's happened, and how much he means to me.

I miss my friend Rich. I miss him every single day, and I think of him often. Through the grief and the pain, I'm holding onto the memories I have of him, of all of the hugs and laughter we shared. I'm doing whatever I can to honor his memory and live a life that would make him proud. I know that if I'm able to live and love even half as well as he did, then I'll have had a meaningful, wonderful life.

When I think of the way that Rich lived his life, in the things he did, in the way he loved people, and in what he believed- I imagine God welcoming Rich into heaven the same way my dear friend used to welcome me into church- with arms wide open- ready to greet me with love.

I long for the day when I get to hug my dear friend again.

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