It was a pleasant day. The sun shone down on us as I walked arm in arm with one of my best friends. The wind was light and although it blew cold, we were both happy to be out for winter had caged us long enough. I commented in the line of conversation about how much of a brother he had been and how he had come to replace my older brother in our hearts. He turned his head sharply. "Anna, no one, no one will ever replace Paul." I blinked tears.
Paul. Paul Benjamin. It's hard to explain a grief for a person you barely knew, a person you do not remember in a tangible way. I was a mere babe when he died. I cannot pull up a mental image of him from my own memories or produce a reason why I miss him. For most of my childhood, his death was only a thing of legacy, a story from the past. I'd sometimes talk with him like he was there as my "guardian angel". I can never remember crying or wanting him to come back, for I had never really known what life was like with him. It was just another sad story in a line of stories that was sometimes pulled off the shelf and read, but most of the time was buried beneath a stack of other tales to be forgotten.
But all things must be dusted, all things come to light, and for the first time, I wept for the loss of seventeen years and grieved an older brother I once had. It was as if this whole time I had gone through life ignoring a hole, and I finally admitted I had one. What would have my life been like? What would he had been like? Would he have loved me? Would have we gotten along? What would have been his interests? Who would he have been now? Why, God, did you take him from me? Why did he have to die? Questions haunt me while emptiness fills me. I need an older brother. There's a hole where he had been. I want answers. I want completion of this story.
Death.. it affects us all. It slaughters infants, murders old men, and robs us all of what we hold dear. We feebly grasp at things, anything and everything, to keep it at bay. We see it in our own flesh and desperately follow false gods to keep ourselves alive. We die and we cannot do anything. We are dying, and we do nothing. We are as good as dead.
But thanks be to God, He has sent His son to my elder brother. When this life fails to answer questions or give my grieving heart peace, I fly to the arms of Christ, my elder brother, who gives the peace which passes all understanding. Someday, He will complete me and bring me to the place beyond all these tears and sorrows. Someday, I will see Paul again.
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"Your life changed when your brother died." I hastily left the sanctuary. My hand were cold and I shivered. I needed warmth. I needed shelter. I needed to be alone. The only real warm spot in the church was in the girls bathroom. Entering there, I pressed my back against the part of the wall nearest the heater. As the heat slowly entered my body, tears left it. I sank to the floor and wept.
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Paul. Paul Benjamin. It's hard to explain a grief for a person you barely knew, a person you do not remember in a tangible way. I was a mere babe when he died. I cannot pull up a mental image of him from my own memories or produce a reason why I miss him. For most of my childhood, his death was only a thing of legacy, a story from the past. I'd sometimes talk with him like he was there as my "guardian angel". I can never remember crying or wanting him to come back, for I had never really known what life was like with him. It was just another sad story in a line of stories that was sometimes pulled off the shelf and read, but most of the time was buried beneath a stack of other tales to be forgotten.
But all things must be dusted, all things come to light, and for the first time, I wept for the loss of seventeen years and grieved an older brother I once had. It was as if this whole time I had gone through life ignoring a hole, and I finally admitted I had one. What would have my life been like? What would he had been like? Would he have loved me? Would have we gotten along? What would have been his interests? Who would he have been now? Why, God, did you take him from me? Why did he have to die? Questions haunt me while emptiness fills me. I need an older brother. There's a hole where he had been. I want answers. I want completion of this story.
Death.. it affects us all. It slaughters infants, murders old men, and robs us all of what we hold dear. We feebly grasp at things, anything and everything, to keep it at bay. We see it in our own flesh and desperately follow false gods to keep ourselves alive. We die and we cannot do anything. We are dying, and we do nothing. We are as good as dead.
But thanks be to God, He has sent His son to my elder brother. When this life fails to answer questions or give my grieving heart peace, I fly to the arms of Christ, my elder brother, who gives the peace which passes all understanding. Someday, He will complete me and bring me to the place beyond all these tears and sorrows. Someday, I will see Paul again.
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