A beautiful example of faith through grief

At The Well-Trained Mind forum, Cindy in C-ville comforted me with her friend's thoughts after he lost his little boy:
"He said that his understanding of the kingdom of God has expanded exponentially. Now, it's not like heaven is some far away place. For him, his little boy is in another room. They're both in the house, and in a way he can see through to it at times. Boy, does he long to be there with his sweet boy, but he knows he will be someday. For now, he wants to live in light of the reality of the kingdom - here and now, every moment for eternity - knowing that one day the fullness of the 'house' will be by sight, not only by faith."

Truer words never written

"(My life), indeed the whole of human experience, is made up of moments of rapture and regret, with long, empty spaces in between." --My brother Ben

He sleeps.

I hate funerals but I have to say that people are...better?...afterwards. My small hometown turned out and every person who expressed his sorrow and shared a memory blessed us and soothed an unbearable ache.

Anthony sobbed with us, couldn't even talk. Gentle hands reached out from everywhere and I knew them, even when I couldn't see the attached faces through my veil of tears. Comforting, feeding, moving us along when we couldn't take one more step. Elena's single red rose, Central High Class of 82's maroon and gold wreath. Four arrangements from his company, three from our church. One from a new neighbor who wasn't even sure how to spell his name. People everywhere...from church, from a newspaper where I haven't worked in eight years, from our homeschool group, from the fellowship ministry. Cashiers from the convenience stores whose computers were serviced by Ben. We would never have missed them if they hadn't been there, but there they were anyway.

Surprisingly, laughter. Cracking a joke to beat back the sorrow. "I know I can die now. If Ben can do it, how hard can it be?"

Most of all, the fear is gone. The worst has happened, and God kept his word and took care of us. May he continue to protect and refine our faith so that when we join Ben, he can say to us, "Are you here already? Dude, you should see YOUR mansion!"

"From Uncle Ben"

--By his nephew "Larry"

Please don't stand at my grave and cry
Because I am not there,
I'm only upstairs
In heaven.

Please don't mourn
Because I've been born
Again
In heaven.

Please don't weep
Because I'm not dead, just asleep,
But awake,
In heaven.

"Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

It does not seem possible that I am about to write about my brother Ben's death. On Saturday, he was here in the dappled sunlight, swinging my children from his arms and dropping them onto the soft front yard grass. Listening to them...really listening to them, like only a bachelor uncle can...as they told him their secrets and tales. Excited about seeing his high school classmates at his 25th reunion that night, fretting about the wrinkles in the microsuede shirt he planned to wear, showing off his brand-new company van. Carrying a pack of orange Orbit gum in his shirt pocket instead of those revolting cigarettes.

It does not seem possible that it was just last night that a sheriff's deputy called my home and asked me to come be with my mom and dad because my brother Ben was killed in a car accident. That the computer equipment in his van was thrown forward and crushed him when a woman crossed the center line on a curve, hitting him head-on. That he died at the crash scene of massive internal injuries.

It does not seem possible that my three surviving brothers, my parents and I wavered between utter disbelief and acceptance as we clung to each other in my childhood home all the long, long night, and grieved. It does not seem possible that this morning I was writing my brother Ben's obituary or fielding calls from shocked friends and family. Or that I was choosing his burial clothing from his things, and wondering if dead people wear underwear.

Most of all, it does not seem possible that my brother Ben, who slid off barn roofs, told ghost stories, saw the bombing of Beirut, introduced my children to Star Wars and Lord of the Rings and Razzles, cracked himself up with corny stories, never slept and was a computer genius; who finally, finally had his life together, has gone to Jesus' arms, and I cannot follow just yet.

Speaking of Shakespeare...

"To sleep, perchance to dream..."

I rarely remember my dreams, but last night was an exception. I'm an Eric Clapton fan, and I've been fortunate enough to see him in concert several times, but last night I dreamed I was personally acquainted with him. In the dream, I was royally irritated at myself for not ever having a photo made of the two of us together, because nobody believed I knew him except Geddy and the children, who'd met him several times as well.

I remember thinking it was weirder that I had a white convertible than that I knew Eric Clapton. My dream car would definitely be red.

The wonderful world of...William?

Shakespeare, that is.

Geddy and I got hooked on the library's copies of "Father Cadfael," which led to a discussion about his favorite actor, Derek Jacobi.

Jacobi begot Kenneth Branagh. (Well, not literally, unless ol' Derek's got something he needs to tell his longtime male partner.)

Branagh reminded us of "Tales from Shakespeare" by William and Mary Lamb, a copy of which already was resting gently on our shelves.

Lamb begot a crate full of library books on and by Shakespeare, and both Jacobi's and Branagh's versions of "Hamlet" on hold.

Oddly enough, the children went with it. After seeing the art in a picture book of Shakespeare's poetry called "Under the Greenwood Tree: Shakespeare for Young People," they started asking questions, which begot Geddy reading Hamlet's soliloquy from said book.

Which begot a lunchtime reading of the story of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark from the Lamb book.

After several peripheral readings of the Weird Sisters' chant from "Macbeth," Curly Sue has been using her creepiest voice to repeat the first few lines as often as possible, so Moe likely won't sleep tonight. Which will beget my reading of some of the comedies.

And if you want to see something terrific without having to pay $35 for the DVD, you can check out Jacobi's soliloquy on YouTube.

"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind..."