My son, Sam, wanted me to entitle this blog LARDMAIL (Letters + cARDs + eMAILs = LARDMAIL. But, I told him that no one would think this to be my design. So, I am giving him the slight compliment that he is seeking while ashamedly publishing these sentences.
Our family has received literally hundreds of cards and emails of condolence. We have read every card, most of them aloud to the entire family. We thank God for each person taking the time and care to send them. We are deeply humbled and thankful. Many of the cards come from places we have never been and were sent by people we have never met. Honestly, cards and letters do little to assuage our grief. I don’t imagine they mollify the intensity of anyone’s emotion in times like this. But, cards do contribute a few things.
First, the cards remind us that there are people who are aware of the grief and circumstances that are so deeply important to us. The card sends a message more profound than the one Hallmark intended. It tells us that there are real people who understand that the one we lost was a real person, of inestimable value to us. It is like those who silently sit beside one grieving without saying a word still offering great help. The card does not cry out, but just offers presence.
Second, they are filled with tidbits of something helpful. A scripture on the card reminds us of what we already know, but are thrilled to be reminded once again. There are small comments that offer a unique perspective on grief, heaven, suffering, loved ones, God’s care through crisis and a host of other important thoughts that all grieving people process through circumstances like these. Some verses of songs and hymns are powerful constructs of words poised by an author who can express our feelings more deeply that we can.
Third, the cards and letters let us know that Mitch had an impact. Isn’t that what we all secretly desire? We all have a desire or need to be loved and to be significant. The cards remind us that both are the case for our son. For us, our lives were never intended to be lived in a solitary way with no impact in the world. We want to be used by God. We want to know that our lives have made a difference. When someone says that Mitch impacted them in such and such a way, it reminds us that this tragedy was not in vain. We look for a sense of purpose and effect through our lives. Sadly, the cards are a postscript to the value of the life. On the downside, those comments make the death of a young person seem a little premature. If he was so effective, why now? On the upside, those comments make the life of a young person seem a little more a valuable offering. How could he be so effective with so little time?
This is a lengthy thank-you. But, it is my one-card-reply to every card. Of course, somewhere between 600-700 people at Mitch’s funeral and the fabulous tributes will provide a more lasting memory than any card or letter. But, the cards and emails and letters and phone messages are wonderful, small ways to come alongside and bring comfort. Thanks. Thoughtfully pass this practice on as much as you can to as many as you can for as long as you can.