Collecting Days...

"But ask yourself this: Have you ever lost someone you loved and wanted one more conversation, one more chance to make up for time when you thought they would be here forever? If so, then you know you can go your whole life collecting days, and none will outweigh the one you wish you had back." From Mitch Abom's Book - "for one more day."

This past Saturday I attended the memorial service for the nephew of a dear friend. The youngster was only 17 when a gun discharged in his presence and killed him instantly. The occasion was a birthday celebration. No celebration will ever mark that dark day again. From that day forward the date will become "Day Zero," the day that normal time was suspended and henceforth for all who knew and loved this young man will be marked as the day they each started over without him.

The funeral service was attended by the young man's relatives, of which there were many. But the majority of the hall was filled to capacity by this young man's many friends and acquaintances, perhaps numbering well over a hundred. For the most part these youngsters wore black, not in a conscience decision to morn the deceased, but as a rebellious fashion statement of who they are...or whom they perceive society regards them to be...outcasts, modern-day Don Quixote's jousting at societal windmills. Their selection of garb did not offend me. What troubled me was the nagging question of why these young people, on the threshold of life's promises, were taking such a disparaging view of the world in which they strive to counted? It is they they cannot "fit in," or that they choose not to fit it? To a person they each displayed symbols of their rebellion..hair dyed jet black, or orange, or varying shades of blood red. Body piercings were prevalent, as were garish jewelry. Each was proclaiming their independence from the status quo by looking like mirror images of all the other youths in the room who were proclaiming their individuality in like manner. There is a sense of independence, I suppose, that is best assured when such independence is confirmed by an affirming majority.

Their professed swagger was betrayed by the tears shed by so many of the deceased young man's friends. No attempt was made to hide their grief and into each other's arms they sought comfort. These young hearts dissolved into the basic of human emotions; loss and grief. No amount of bravado will ever overwhelm mankind's basic quests...the need to be recognized as being of worth, to be appreciated, to be loved unconditionally...and to be missed...to be morned genuinely when their life is no more. From their departed 17 year old friend the lesson of earthly mortality was brought to the fore for each of them. Life is not fair and sometimes it ends far too suddenly and far too soon. It's a hard lesson to wrap oneself around when youth is all one knows.

Each life is a story. They are best told by those who know us best. To those who remember the joy of our births and the promise we each pursued as we transversed the collection of our own days. Perhaps the Beatles said it best..."And in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make." I pray that each of the young people who were in attendance at the memorial service will find a way to make their own memories, full of love that will serve them well in life and in the hereafter. Their departed 17 year old friend left their affections far too soon. Yet he was loved and he left a good example for all of us to follow.