A Crude Dichotomy
As my friend plays the harp, she wanders around a hauntingly beautiful melody and my mind strays again to the thought of death. My life has not been replete of death like many have. I have never experienced death close to me and sense it creeping at my door the older I get. Family members have not died, and my friends were all fine. But death comes closer.
My friend died last week. I had not seen him for a couple years, but we shared good experiences, music and a road trip. We shared some life together and now he is no longer in life. I wrestle with the idea, not sure how to think of the fact that I remain on this broken earth and he is no longer here.
His parents and grandparents outlived him. This should not be. Where is he? He is in a place that is good. He is with God, present with Christ. He has no need to crave my status of living, for he is closer to it than I am. But as I stand where I do, I think that he can no longer stand here. When people refer to him it will not be in the category of life, but of death.
This is a crude dichotomy, but one which we are so familiar with this side of the great sea. Our minds press into these two categories, thinking mainly of ourselves in the living and looking at those who have died as in the dead. This is not an accurate dichotomy and only makes sense in a world of the fallen and broken.
The categories should be life and only life. But we broke it apart and created another place, bringing death to ourselves. Now we must think about friends who have died and wonder how I should feel that I will not see him for 60 years or more. It is as though a friend from long ago went to a far off country and I will not be able to see his face until I go to that country. He will not visit me and I cannot share coffee or engage in conversation with him, until I touch down on the shores of the land he dwells in.
It is strange. He is gone and I am here. Connection is lost. I cannot call, I cannot write on his Facebook wall and expect a reply. I cannot go to places he used to dwell and feel anything but wonder and longing at him not being where he used to often be.
He was a good friend, though distant and not seen for a long time. The experiences we had will be remembered and remembering them will bring me joy and a small smile. I will remember the times that were good and I will pray for the day when this crude dichotomy of life and death will be shattered as I arrive on the shores of the country far better than my own.
For the curious, harp music filled my ears and silence took from them while writing this.
