This week, I went for lunch with friends to celebrate one of our birthdays. When I was leaving, I was held up by a long line of people crossing the street from the corner funeral home. I thought to myself, oh, someone passed, I wonder who it was. The crowd looked young and I waited for them to cross and turned to go home without much more thought to it.

The next day I was with another group of friends, and one was telling us about a funeral she was at. The same funeral I had seen the day before. It was a young man who played hockey with her son. He was thirty-six, leaving behind two little girls. I asked who it was. When she told us, my heart froze. I said I know him. He was one of Zane’s high school friends. Are you sure it was him…I needed to see his picture. My mind heard. My heart needed proof. And when she shared his obituary, I burst into tears.

Alex was a regular at the pre-grad parties in our home. He was tall, handsome, full of life and always came in with a bear hug just for me. When Zane was physically assaulted one New Year’s Eve, it was Alex that took revenge for my son, getting himself into trouble with his family and the law. That was Alex, loyal, acting on his sense of justice with no regard to his own welfare. After Zane was killed, we would bump into him here and there, and he always had time to give us a hug, share the updates on his life, tell us how much he loved his friend Zane…Alex was a favorite because his soul was a beautiful one that truly cared.

He’s gone? I came home that night with a very heavy heart. I sat on my couch alone and sobbed. The injustice, the insanity that another soul leaves earth far before their supposed time. What, why, how…. I am flooded with these questions. I can’t get his smile out of my mind. I can’t unhear our last conversation…how is this happening?

I didn’t know what to do with my grief. I couldn’t tell my daughter; I was afraid she would not be able to handle it and make another wrong choice. I couldn’t tell my son-in-law because his boundary was no more grief drama. So, I told my husband and I texted a friend who acknowledged my sorrow. My grief was overwhelmingly painful with nowhere to throw it up. I screamed into my mattress.

There should be a punching bag for grief or a place you can call up or go to if you want to scream, throw something or generally lose it. I don’t know of such a place. So, my grief sits within me shouting loud.  My brain starts the reel of questions and the search for a rational explanation to how this could be. My body shakes to accompany the sobs, the tears flow. And it is my heart, that cracks; that sighs and says to hold on. We are breaking. Again.  

Solace may arrive one day, beckoned by the belief that Zane would be at the gates to greet Alex. I believe the wild antics of their youth together would be recalled, laughed at, and that the love of the brotherhood they shared here, would be brighter there. But today, it just aches.

Alex, I want to thank you for being you. For standing up for my son when injustice threw a punch at him. For lighting up our home, with your smile and your laugh. I know not of your soul plan, or the reason for your leaving, but I do know this. Your stay on earth was one that touched the lives of many, your name will continue to be said, and you will always be loved. And love never dies.