The Rawest Form of Anguish

A few weeks ago there was a horrific accident involving a bright, beautiful and enthusiastic young 15 year old girl.  That girl was the sister of one our oldest son's hockey teammates.

Evan and I went to the funeral.

Torture.

Pure, gut wrenching, torture.

The church over flowed with people.  Loved ones.  Friends.  Acquaintances.  I suspect people who didn't even know this young soul personally, but felt compelled to pay respects to such a young life lost.

We got two of the last seats (extra seating just outside of the congregation itself).

I sobbed.  Uncontrollably.  Along with the hundreds of other breaking hearts in that church.  My son held my hand as I much as I held his...  my 11 year old son.

This girls father spoke.  Our friend.  A broken man at the funeral of his daughter.  The daughter he had just played catch with the day before her death.  The man whose soul was drenched with the rawest of pain....

The tears flowed freely.  The "ugly cry" reared it's head.... exhausting.

I sobbed for that family.  I sobbed for a life gone far too soon.  I sobbed for the one's left behind to mourn such a life full of love and prosper.

I sobbed for our Nicholas.  I sobbed as the memories of losing our son poured to the forefront, once again...

The look in this young girls mom's eyes as she hugged me and locked eyes with mine...  "how do you do it?" she asked...  I just hugged her extra tight.

Truth is there is no answer to that question....  her life is forever changed.  Forever shattered in that moment.  I wanted to tell her that there will be light, but not today.  There will be light when there is meant to be light..  her daughter will provide that.

But today, she is broken... fractured... immobilized by a loss so deep that there are truly no words.