You Should Have Lived Well

 

Did you live well? I’ve been asking myself that question ever since August 6th. I remember when our father crossed 78, he told me he couldn’t believe he had outlived both his fathers. And now here I am, trying to make sense of the fact that you left the world at just 30. People say life begins at 30, but yours ended. Maybe it’s because you had to grow up faster than most. At 16, you were already the man of the house. I was always impressed by how you carried that responsibility, how you stepped into it without complaint. Only now do I realize how heavy it must have been, how much pain you carried quietly, shielding the details from those around you the same way I tend to do.

The few updates you shared made me believe you were doing well, that everything was under control. Your humor, that sharp, unexpected humor that reminded me so much of our father always convinced me you were okay. By the time I learned you were in real pain, there was nothing left for me to do but pray. And pray I did. Only the answer was not the one I hoped for.

The hardest part has been carrying on as though life is normal while wrestling with guilt. Could I have done more? Should I have actively looked out and done more? And the guilt that cuts the deepest is knowing I never once shared the gift of salvation with you, the very thing that keeps me going, the anchor of my life. I regret that deeply. But in that regret, I’ve decided: I will not waste another moment. I will share the love of Jesus and His redeeming grace with the people I love. It isn’t easy ,I don’t know why but I never want to lose someone again and feel like I should have done better.

No one has ever returned from the world of the dead to tell us what it is like. So, all I can do is imagine. I imagine a reunion with those who went before you. I imagine our father seeing you and saying, borrowing the words of scripture, “Well done, my beloved son. You don’t have to endure the pain anymore. You can rest now.”

And to answer my question — yes, I think you lived well. You took in stride what the world gave you. You never looked like the weight you were carrying. As I nurse this loss, I will celebrate your short life. My memories take me back to the first time I saw you  a happy baby who grew into a wonderful man the Lord called home far too early.

You should have lived well, and you did. I only wish you had lived longer.