I looked into his mother's eyes and, "I'm so sorry" is all I can get out before I start crying with her. Today she will bury her 19-year old son. "Sorry" is weak and lame. "Sorry" doesn't even begin to cut it. She tells me how she feels like she's floating. It's like she's not really there, but she IS there, and this is the only way she will make it through this day.
I hug the boy's father. He's one of the kindest men I've ever met. He's one of those Dad's that's always there. We've spent a lot of time together at band concerts and wrestling meets and football games. We've been in a lot of fun places together, and this is not one of them. His eyes see me, but they also see the image of his son, dying in his arms, as he did everything he could to help. I pray that image dims. As my heart pleads to God for this man's comfort, he reminds me that it wasn't that long ago I was in his son's place. I wasn't really thinking about me, so this takes me by surprise. He's right, and I am reminded of why I am still here. I can share the memory of my dying experience with these grieving parents. "You know, when it was my turn on the floor, it didn't hurt. I wasn't scared." I tell him. "It was warm and loving, and I wasn't afraid, I just felt so...LOVED."
He tells me that is the hope he is holding onto. It's the hope we all hold onto, that our children won't suffer. We never want to bury our sons or watch our daughters die. Sometimes we don't get to choose.
This boy's Mom has to be thinking, "What happened? He was just here and now he's gone! No no no no no! He's supposed to go to KVCC! He's supposed to be a police man! He's supposed to grow up and have a family! This isn't right!" I am sure she's thinking this is not how the story is supposed to go!
This happened to another mother. She watched her son being tortured. The people lied about him and got the local authorities all riled up, and they beat that son bloody. Then they mocked him, robed him in purple, and made him carry his own cross to his death. His whole life, his Mom, Mary, had "saved up all of these things in her heart". Remember the Angel? He said this son of mine would be son of the Most High! What about the shepherds and the Magi!!! Stop beating Him! He is supposed to rule over the house of Jacob forever! Leave him alone! What was it Elizabeth told me? "Most blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb..." What? They are KILLING the fruit of my womb! I do not feel blessed... I feel as though a sword has pierced my own heart! I feel LOST! How can this be? This is not the plan! Stop pounding those NAILS! You don't know who he really IS! Son, I LOVE you! DO SOMETHING!!! And He gives her his beloved disciple to be her son. Then he dies.
Now what.
For Mary, her son rose in Glory in three days time. I pray that these two sons are now together. I pray that Mary will have a word with her son on behalf of this family, to comfort and console them. I ask God to watch over all the Mothers and Fathers who will bury their sons. Pray with me that God will show mercy to this family, and help them and all who care for them find peace.
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