Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Lent: Mysterious

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Blessings #12 & 13 - Kyle Funke and G-d, especially when they're collaborating
Monday night was rough.  I stayed up too late.  I ate too little.  I watched one movie too many.  The movie was called Keith.  It's one of those movies that turns up on Netflix with no listed rating, but the review seems promising, so, even though you're expecting to be disappointed, you watch it anyway.

I was not disappointed.  

The movie was really good, and I would recommend it, although I'd place it in the "A Walk to Remember" category.  Which, of course, got me thinking about Kyle, not that it takes much to do that these days.  One day, I will write his/my story on here, but that day is not today.  I promise it will come, though.  Until then, I'll let you make your assumptions.  They're probably pretty decent.

Last night, after finishing that story, my exhausted, hypoglycemic self broke down, and the tears poured again, as unquenchable as they were a month after Kyle passed.  But, for the first time, I didn't want to cry alone, and so I picked up the phone.  My friend heard me out, and got me laughing/calmed down, encouraged me to write to some of Kyle's friends and/or family and call some of my close friends.  He said that he would be glad to talk to me, but these people knew the circumstances better and would be able to better direct me to things I needed to hear.  I don't think he meant for me to do those things right then, but I did.

I got the lovely Alex on Skype, and we talked, and shopped, and laughed.  I explained the movie, but I didn't need to explain what was on my mind.  That's the thing about good friends - they don't need explanations.  When all was said and done, Alex said to me, "You know, that reminds me of what Tyson [the name is changed, so you know] is going through right now."  Alex knew that that wasn't what I wanted to hear.  I wanted to focus on me and my pain.  But Alex also knows that I can't when there's someone in pain around me.  She told me about Tyson's very own "P.S. I Love You" situation that had abruptly shown up in his life (and, as much as I'd like to give you more details than that, I need to respect Tyson's privacy on this one), but how he was still acting like his normal, cheery self.  She said that there was something about his eyes, though...

I know how the eyes can be the only telling feature.  Not that that was how it played out for me in the immediacy of Kyle's passing, but I ended up there a few days later.

So I wrote to Tyson, and I told him that I was available to listen, as I had a similar situation on my hands, only a bit further in than him.  He wrote back within hours, pouring out the extent of the situation.  You would cry if you read it.  It's painful.  It chips at your heart, but it almost seemed to be helping to heal mine.  Perhaps it was chipping away at the tumor of grief that had nestled itself into my heart.  But, now, I feel like all this hurt, all these sleepless nights are good for something.  And I feel like I have someone who understands my exact position, too.

I have community.

I'd like to say that I wish I didn't need that community, but I can't.  I know Kyle would do it all over again, based on the number of people he has brought Christ, simply through his death and unflinching faith in the face of it.  I can't wish for something that would be directly against his wishes, but I do look forward to the day that I see him again.

With whom does G-d collaborate in your life?

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