Prayers Are Always Needed...And Are Welcome
I'm unexpectedly back home...
A week ago I was thrilled to be putting the Midwest behind me. Now it comes rushing back into my world with such urgency, such immediacy. You see, my brother died this past Sunday. I think I'm having a hard time actually believing this, and there's no way to say it...he committed suicide.
Even if you are a random passerby and are just reading this while surfing blogs, please say a prayer for his soul and for my family. If you aren't so random, we really need your support and prayer.
This afternoon I got off a plane and my heart broke when I had to go see my mom. My heart broke to see my dad trying to be so strong. My niece, nineteen years old, crying one moment and the next, talking about a guy she works with that she's interested in (or he was interested in her?) and then more tears.
The people from the funeral home were nice but I felt like such an observer in a conversation I was actively participating in. I just couldn't believe I was having the conversation about what he should wear in the casket. I thought to myself, "Are we really talking about this?"
The soul doesn't need a suit of clothes to go to God--we are the ones who need it. He is on his spiritual journey. I know he's with God and I am grateful for that.
A week ago I was thrilled to be putting the Midwest behind me. Now it comes rushing back into my world with such urgency, such immediacy. You see, my brother died this past Sunday. I think I'm having a hard time actually believing this, and there's no way to say it...he committed suicide.
Even if you are a random passerby and are just reading this while surfing blogs, please say a prayer for his soul and for my family. If you aren't so random, we really need your support and prayer.
This afternoon I got off a plane and my heart broke when I had to go see my mom. My heart broke to see my dad trying to be so strong. My niece, nineteen years old, crying one moment and the next, talking about a guy she works with that she's interested in (or he was interested in her?) and then more tears.
The people from the funeral home were nice but I felt like such an observer in a conversation I was actively participating in. I just couldn't believe I was having the conversation about what he should wear in the casket. I thought to myself, "Are we really talking about this?"
The soul doesn't need a suit of clothes to go to God--we are the ones who need it. He is on his spiritual journey. I know he's with God and I am grateful for that.
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