… and you are forced to shake it’s hand.
Today we got the news that one of my high school teachers and his wife died driving home last night.
Death has a sense of sobering finality. One moment they are there, the next you will never speak with them again.
They left behind a little girl who will never know her parents. A little girl who didn’t get to see her parents when she woke up this morning. Who will never have her daddy to walk her down the aisle. A little girl forever changed.
They left behind parents and siblings and friends and students who have been touched by their lives, who remember their voices, who will miss them as they gather for Christmas or their next class period.
Death. I never wished to meet it, much less be forced to shake it’s hand, but yet that is what comes with this broken life. We live in a world where death stings.
I’m not questioning that we have hope in Christ, what I am saying is that the pain is still real, and raw, and broken.
I barely knew this man and never met his wife, although we heard about her a lot, yet my heart feels heavy today. Heavy for my friend who is grieving, heavy for their little girl, heavy for the loss my own heart feels.
Death. It is real and it hurts.
It reminds us to hug our loved ones a little tighter, to know where our eternity stands, forgive more, love deeply, and truly live. One day we will no longer have those options.
Mr. and Mrs. Sommervold, you will be missed.