It was eight years ago that my friend and partner, Jack Warren died, in a car crash on the way home from work.  I was coming in for my night shift, he was leaving the evening shift.  ‘See you tomorrow, Jack,’  ‘Have a good night, Ed.’  I saw him as a patient as EMS brought him to us some 20 minutes later.  My life was filled with new life then, my youngest boy a few months old, still nestled in his mothers arms, nursing, seeing the world all new, all fresh.  His sons were coming steadily into manhood, also full of life.  That death struck me like a fist; I cried hard at the funeral.
Today, while working, I received the phone call telling me that his son, Thomas, a year or so out of college, had died last night.  The details are still uncertain; but it was sudden and unexpected and terrible.  We are numb.  We cry. We mourn.  We pray for Jack’s wife Ellen, mother of Thomas, who was once crushed by loss and on whom it falls once more.

I don’t know what to say.  I will ask that you pray for this family.  I will ask that you implore God’s comfort and wisdom and hope on them.  And I will ask that you treasure every minute with every loved one you have.

Tonight, I read to my children and put them to bed.  We discussed the pall of sadness that will hang over our family this week; I wanted them to know their mother and I are not angry, that we aren’t upset, just very sad.  I read to them the verse; ‘blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted.’  And told them that believers are instructed to ‘mourn with those who mourn.’
We talked about heaven then, and what it would mean to all of us one day.  And I told them that I earnestly believed that Thomas was there.  And that he was with his dad whom he had missed so much after that terrible wreck all those years ago.  I told them my sincere belief that both were happy, despite the loss and tears back here at their departures.

We said our prayers, and I tucked my children into the covers.  My wife is also now asleep nearby; mourning, I suspect, even in her dreams.  All of them, despite the pain, are safe and warm on this cool, rainy, beautiful spring night.  I feel guilty that mine are here, and well, safe and sound under one roof.

But then, even in my sorrow, I know that Thomas is finally with both his father and his Father.  It’s small comfort to his family right now, but better than emptiness and hopelessness.

Be well, my friends, be safe, be rested.  Love God and one another.  And send up a prayer for a family who grieves.

Your friend,

Edwin

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