Over the weekend, we attended the wake and funeral for our friends’ 17 year-old daughter who was killed along with her boyfriend on a motorcycle last week. He missed a turn at high speed at night.
The rituals for a death in a midwest farming community seemed to do much to aid the grieving and healing for both her family and the community. The long line of mourners, with each person talking to her parents in view of the open casket. The displays depicting her school, church, and community involvement. The readings and music at the funeral service. Individuals placing flowers on her casket over the grave. Doves released into the sky.
I prepared myself for a cornball eulogy from the Lutheran pastor, but he nailed it. God allows suffering but he doesn’t cause it. A curse on anyone who says that God called her home. Bad things happen to good people all the time. Lots of personal anecdotes. His own grief was evident but he kept a lid on it, so as not to distract from his message: reach out to God for help with healing.
This tragedy hits close to home, beyond just knowing the family. I have a 15 year-old daughter. One of my sons almost died in a car accident at age 17. And yet I really have no idea what it’s like for her parents. I admired the way they handled themselves at the wake and funeral. Openly weeping one moment, laughing the next, absorbing the outpouring of community love, and returning it with gratitude. I don’t know that they’ll be fine, but it sure appears so. Still, I wonder how this will change them.