I'm sure I have written a post like this before with a similar title. I am taking another stab at the subject. My youngest brother Keith was born on Nov 11th 1970 aka Veterans Day. . This is the 54th anniversary of his birth. I was born in September of 1964, so I was already 6 years old when he was born.
. Keith's last Veteran's Day was 16 years ago when he turned 38. He died 5 months later in an Elgin nursing home when I was 44. Since then I've turned 60 and he's perpetually 38. Keith loved math and I'm pretty sure if he was still around he'd call me up today to announce that he had now been alive for 90% of my lifetime. The truth is that he was on;y alive 63.33% of my lifetime time and that number goes down each year I outlive him.
Now Keith would want me to provide a more accurate accounting of that number by factoring in the 5 months between his 38th birthday and that day in April of 2009 when he shuffled off this mortal coil. Let's be real, Keith would want me to calculate the percentage down to at least the day, factoring in the leap days as well. He probably wouldn't be satisfied with even that and want it down to the last minute.
But That's not what I would want. What I would want of course, is that his multiple health problems were all resolved and that he was here with us celebrating his full deck plus 2 jokers (that's 54th please try to keep up) birthday with us. What I would want is that his children now in their 20s would still have their Dad with them instead of hardly remembering him or not remembering him at all. What I would want, is that instead of struggling to recall his legendary dumb jokes, there would be another 15 1/2 years worth of them to smile and nod at. But I did not get what I wanted. Instead, I got grief. Now Veterans Day means more than just Keith's birthday to me. It reminds me that I'm a veteran, a veteran of grief.
I'm going to spend the rest of this post unpacking the last sentence of the previous paragraph. When Keith died Amy and I had been attending a small group at our church for only a few weeks. We knew the leader of the small group pretty well because he was the children's ministry pastor and all our children were in the children's ministry at the time and we were both volunteering there. So when he showed up at Keith's visitation I wasn't too surprised. What did surprise me, however, was that the couple whose house the small group met at came to the visitation. We had just met them a few weeks before. They didn't have children, and they didn't attend the same service as we did. It really meant a lot that he came. He explained to me that a few years before when his father had died, he had a similar experience. Some people he hardly knew came to the funeral because they had lost someone and knew how important it was having people there not only to pay respect to the person they lost but to also be there for those who had lost someone. Both the couple who came to Keith's visitation and the people who had gone to his Dad's funeral had one thing in common, they were veterans of grief.
When I think of a war veteran I think of someone who's been through something devastating and life-altering and has been permanently changed by it. Grief has that same effect on you. There is something else I've learned about veterans they try to be there for each other. There is a camaraderie, a family bond. It's a community that doesn't require serving in the same unit or even the same war. The same could be said about a veteran of grief. I don't know if this is true of all veterans be it war, grief, or something else. But as I dealt with losing Keith, empathy for those encountering the same thing grew in me. I was never one to shy away from the funerals of people I knew, but I started gravitating to the funerals of family members of people I knew. As a veteran of grief, I have been able to comfort people and try to help in tangible ways as people begin their journeys with loss and grief.
Keith is often front and center in my heart and mind during these times. I have not yet lost someone closer than a sibling and have not experienced what it is like to lose a child, a parent, or a spouse. I have done my best to comfort those who have lost more significant people in the time since Keith's passing. A dear friend lost his father and wife in short order. I have to be honest I can't imagine losing Amy. I know it would devastate me completely and while I know God would bring me through it, I know it's just a drop in the bucket in comparison to losing Keith. Amy herself lost both her parents within a few years of each other. It broke my heart to see her "orphaned" knowing that her loss was far greater than mine. Yet knowing how God has helped me through this lesser loss of Keith has helped inform me how I can minister to others as they become more experienced with grief.
I still miss Keith, especially on days like today. Tomorrow my remaining brother and I head over to Keith's house to help his widow with some practical needs. It will be bittersweet just a day after his birthday. All my siblings have tried to look out for our sister-in-law and our niece and nephew and I think we would all say that we wished we could do more. In sports veteran players often act as a surrogate coaches to rookies and other new team members. Grief is not a team that anyone chooses to play for. Isaiah 53:3 prophesies about Jesus describing Him as a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Jesus, His word, and His people have equipped me as a veteran of grief. I'm not sure if I'm paying forward, or pointing backward but regardless of the direction I'm so glad to try to be there for others when grief has them upside down.
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