Last week on May 30, 12-year-old Daniel, son of my professor Dr. Eames, passed away.
I have a really hard time dealing with the death of children. In my mind, everyone grows old and someday will die in a nursing home. Or maybe they'll die at a little bit younger age (say, their 50s) of some sickness. Or they'll die in an accident in their 30s. But even those who die at those ages seem too young to die.
But then when children die. I just don't get it. In
The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, King Theoden says at the grave of his son, "No parent should have to bury their child." And I agree. Nothing could be as heartbreaking.
I know that parents love their children so much (a lot more than kids love their parents). More than their own life. I remember one argument I had with my mom (the kind of argument that had me in my room, door slammed shut and shouting about how much I hated my parents), and my mom said to me later, though she was still upset, "Megan, I love you so much. And there is absolutely nothing you can do to ever change it." (I think I rolled my eyes). And another time I had to say goodbye to my whole family, and I hugged them one at a time. I knew I would see my parents again in about a month, so I wasn't that sad about that particular goodbye. But I got to my mom and she whispered in my ear, "I love you more than life itself," and she started crying because she didn't want me to leave. Or when my parents tell me on the phone how much they miss me, but they're even more happy that I am where I need to be at Covenant rather than in DeMotte.
Yikes. My love for my parents is displayed in my calling them and saying, "Hey, what's up, can you mail me a package?" or me writing them a letter with a picture I drew of a dinosaur stampeding its way through a village. Or me responding to them on the phone after they tell me how much they miss me with something like, "Hey, it's only been three months, I'll see you in another two months, it's no big deal." Don't get me wrong, I really love them. But I know that it's nothing compared to how much they love me. (When I do tell my mom I love her, she says to me, "I love you bigger," and I respond with something like, "Cool, talk to you later." It's because I do know that she loves me bigger.)
And so that's why it is hard for me to understand the death of children. Because parents love their kids so much more than their own lives. When children bury their parents, it's incredibly sad. Moving on is so hard without the people that raised them and loved them. I don't know how I'll handle it someday when my parents pass away.
But when kids die, and their parents are closing the casket and watching them be lowered into the ground, the parents want nothing more than to be the one that died instead. And honestly, I don't know what else to write about that, as I have never felt those emotions (or even loved someone as much as any parent has ever loved their kid). So I can't even begin to imagine it.
Being at the funeral on Sunday was so hard because I couldn't stop thinking about how hard it must be for them to lose their child. The baby of the family. Their only son. One of the few people in the world that they loved more than they loved their own life. Watching Dr. Eames lean down one last time to kiss Daniel on the forehead before the casket was closed is something I will not forget in a long time.
No parent should have to bury their child.
..............
I left for work today a few minutes early, so I decided to go check my mail before going up to the desk. Dr. and Mrs. Eames were the only two people I ran into, and suddenly I wanted to disappear. I felt so inadequate. I wanted my dad with me, because as a minister he's had tons of practice comforting people. It was just me by myself, so unaccustomed to this kind of grief, so unaccustomed to how much it is possible for parents to love their children.
I didn't know what to say other than, "How are you?" I couldn't believe they were both smiling. And I couldn't believe that the answer to that question was "As best as we can be," rather than "Terrible, how can we deal with this grief?" Dr. Eames shook my hand (twice) and thanked me from the bottom of his heart for being at the funeral. He proceeded to introduce me to his wife and even tell her that I was going to be working for him in the Psych department next year. They were so kind. And so loving. Two incredible people that I was so blessed to talk with, even though I felt uncomfortable at first. But throughout our conversation Dr. and Mrs. Eames kept reminding me of how awesome God is.
I told them how amazing the funeral service had been. Because it really had been. I thought I would be leaving that funeral sobbing and driving with tears running down my face. But I left smiling. And happy. Because God is so good. And that funeral really reminded me of that. The pastor read Psalm 116:15 to us. "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints." God called Daniel to be home with Him. He has not called Dr. Eames, or his wife, or their daughters to be with Him yet. But God had worked through Daniel for 12 years and it was His will for Daniel to pass away. And now he is with Jesus. The whole service was a reminder to me of how we belong to God. He is the Potter, we are the clay. Our lives are to be lived to serve and glorify Him. And it is only by His grace and His mercy that we are saved. And nothing can separate us from Him. God is so good.
I cannot even begin to imagine how the Eames family feels right now. They have an empty spot at their dinner table. A bedroom in their house is now empty and silent. There is a gaping hole in their hearts that will never heal.
But they know that Daniel is in heaven with our Lord. They know that someday they will be too.
What a blessing for the Eames family to have had Daniel in their lives for twelve wonderful years. They have so many hilarious memories and funny stories that they will remember for a long time. And they will never stop grieving.
Dr. Eames told me today that grief can be hard because it is so isolating. But I don't think it should be. Grief should draw Christians closer together. I hope that God uses all of this to bring His people closer together.
And someday, when my time comes, I cannot wait to meet my Savior face to face. I am His, and He is mine. I hope to glorify Him in everything that I do here on earth and to glorify Him even in my death. And, like Daniel is now, I will be with Him for eternity.
