Grieving and Witnessing Grief

One of my sons' baseball teammates was killed this week. On Father's Day, Ian and his mother were shot by his father, who then killed himself. We will never be able to explain it, because evil never make sense. We can only grieve.

The boys had a baseball game the night they learned about their friend. They all decided to show up. A few talked about what Ian would have wanted, but I think they just wanted to see each other and do something that made their reeling world feel normal again. We parents cried with them when they gathered for a pregame prayer, then again when they left Ian's catcher position open as they took the field.

Last night about 150 people gathered at the baseball field for an informal service of remembrance. Standing in a circle with candles, Ian's friends told favorite stories of his kindness and humor. We recited the Lord's Prayer. We stood in silence. We sang Amazing Grace. We told more stories. As the candles burned low, we began placing them in the dirt behind home plate. The baseball team pulled into a tight circle around that spot, talking quietly among themselves until each flame flickered out.

Others began to drift toward their cars, but the teammates did not want to leave. They went from home plate to the dugout, then to center field, sharing grief and laughter, celebrating presence.

I had forgotten that the last entry in this part of the forum speaks of death bringing perspective to life. Our experience this week adds another dimension, something that the kids have seen clearly. Life is meant to be shared. In joy or grief, we need desperately to see the faces of our friends.

Bob