Street Cred

Dearest Rachel –

Well, it’s happened again; I don’t know if you’ve found out about Josh, as I don’t know how time works up there, nor how new entrants are welcomed by those who have gone before. If it’s just a case of being ‘asleep’ until summoned by the trumpet at the end of days, it’s a moot point, but – seeing as to how I assume you’re no longer confined by how we measure time down here, in any event, allowing you to observe us at any point in history as you should so choose – I figure I might as well fill you in on what’s happening, especially since it’s the largest thing passing as ‘news’ in my orbit at the moment.

But there has been a rash of young deaths lately close to us, and all of them every bit as accidental as your own (if marginally more preventable; we as a society are warned about this or that sort of vehicular accident, and how to prevent and mitigate them, whereas yours was entirely unexpected). And when I say ‘close,’ I’m not kidding; Joel, Sam and Josh were all a part of our nephew’s friend group back in high school, along with a fifth boy whose name my mom couldn’t recall offhand when it came up in discussion. Now, that group has been pared down to that unnamed young man and Will; and that’s it.

I used to think that every high school yearbook (given a certain size like we have here in the suburbs; we’re talking a graduating class of roughly five hundred or so, and a total population of at least two thousand) almost needs to have at least one picture in it with a set of dates in brackets beside the name every three or four years. That way, no student gets through their high school career without at least one reminder that they are mortal – accidents and diseases, while rare at that age, still happen, and we need to be reasonably cautious, despite our youth and resilience. Both you and I dealt with such incidents in our day, so you understand where this is coming from, as tragic as each such occurrence is. But it seems that these reminders aren’t as effective as they used to be, and as such, these occurrences seem to proliferate.

Then again, our lived experience may simply be an outlier. I certainly hope so.

Regardless of this, however, Josh’s visitation was yesterday (which caught me off guard, as I understood that it was supposed to be early next week; the grapevine wasn’t quite as efficient this time around), and I agreed with the folks that we should all put in an appearance, despite not having seen the family in at least a decade (although I would be heading there separately from them, as I’d shown up at the ‘office’ in T-shirt and jeans; not exactly the sort of apparel to be worn to an occasion such as this). They’d switched churches some time ago, for reasons I can’t recall and won’t even try to speculate about, but in so doing, we lost touch with them. Ironically, it’s the same church that K attends; for a moment, it struck me as a funny possibility if I were to run into her here. Not likely, of course – her kids are more Daniel’s than Josh’s, and so she probably wouldn’t be in the same social circles – but I couldn’t help but consider the possibility.

If she was there, though, neither of us spotted the other. I did see a few faces of people who had once attended our church back in the day. Along with greeting me (and for once, I knew a few names before they placed my face; although I won’t take the credit, as their names were in the guest book, so I had an idea to look for them), they offered me their first condolences on your passing since it happened. Yes, it’s been that long since we’ve seen each other, despite living within these few suburbs chained together all this time. As I’ve probably pointed out before, I’m now identified in some folks’ minds as being your widower above anything else.

For all that, despite not having seen the family in so long (and it’s really weird, seeing kids that I remember from Sparks, now well into their teens and early twenties), this identity they have of me allows me a certain amount of street cred in this situation. The fact is, I don’t know what to say to them any more than anybody else, but having been on their side of the receiving line, I’m given a little more slack in that area. I’m even given room to offer advice on what to expect; although, to be honest, the only warning I can give them is that they’re going to feel numb about it for an extended period of time. I also find myself literally wishing them “good luck,” which, coming from anyone else might sound harsh – it certainly did to me, the moment after I said it – but the fact that I’ve ‘been there’ allows me just that touch more leeway. And really, it’s not as if I don’t ask you for in on a regular basis even now.

Technically, of course, what I went through isn’t the same as their loss. While there is the sense of unfairness of losing someone younger (leaving the question of why I should get more time on this earth than you – and keep getting more with every passing day), it’s not as if I’ve raised someone from birth, only to lose them and wonder what the point of all that work was. Then again, the bond between husband and wife is supposed to take primacy over that of parent and child, so the former loss ought to be keener in its own way (if nothing else, it should be from a longer time together). So while the two situations aren’t completely analogous, there’s enough overlap that there’s this kinship we have, even if only for these few moments of expressing condolences.

To be sure, I still don’t know what to offer in terms of comfort. There are certain consoling things you can say if you know about a person’s spiritual position; and while I could make assumptions about Josh, those would be based on the flimsiest of knowledge and evidence, even if they should turn out to be true. You would probably know if he’s up there, but as you can’t relay that information back to me (and if you could, theoretically he should be able to, too – as would everyone else, which would be a great consolation to so many of us left behind), I don’t want to speak of things I don’t know.

Still, if you see him, greet him for us all. And if you can keep an eye on the family, and wish them luck, I’d appreciate it. I’m sure they’ll need it.