Embracing Sorrow

I am struggling. I am struggling and stumbling to understand the death of a friend who was so young and so full of life. A friend who brought so much joy to the people around him and had a soul full of love and laughter. This friend had an infectious personality and when you were around him you had a smile on your face. Leron was friends with everyone because he invited friendship. He had the gift of making you feel comfortable around him; the gift of putting people at ease.

I don't form friendships easily and there are very few people in my life with whom I am open. Leron was not one of those people with whom I am close but I love him. I will always love his laughter, goofy antics, and joy for life. You see, I felt comfortable and at ease around Leron and I can not say that for many people. Leron was my prom date. He spent countless weekends sleeping on my couch in high school. Leron, for me, was one of those friends that even if I had not spoken with him in months, or years, I felt like I could pick up where we left off. There is not one unkind thing I could say about Leron. I saw him live out his life with kindness and lived in the moment. When you spoke with him he payed attention to the conversation. He lived his life being present. It is not that he was perfect, he was full imperfections because he was human. And now he is gone.

There are so many people suffering Leron's death right now. He is never coming back. I will never again pull on his elbow skin or give him a crushing hug. I will never awkwardly stroke his cheek. I'm sure that sounds strange, and it was. But with Leron there were not many boundaries which is part of what made him so wonderful. All that is left are the memories. Life will move forward without him and that seems impossible to to so many. Leron's close friends were his family and I am sure they can not imagine that their children will never know him. Leron ran in a pack and it is weird for me to think that when I see his best friends I will not see him pop around the corner.

I have experienced loss in my life but Leron's death has been harder on me. Honestly, I am still in shock, one week later. I have only shed a few tears when I know part of me wants to sob myself to sleep. I feel directionless anger, sadness and confusion. Mostly I feel confused. I don't understand why this happened. I don't know how to deal with my grief, with the injustice of his death. I want to find closure but I don't know if I ever will. His death feels irrational to me and I want to make sense of it; I want it to fit into my worldview. I want an explanation. I want an explanation beyond the results of an autopsy. My rational mind wants this explanation but my heart wants one too.

Deep down I know that explaining or blaming his death away will not help me escape the pain I feel. I am a fixer. When I don't like something in my life I simply change it. It has always seemed simple to me. This pain is not something that I can escape, resolve or fix. Deep down I know I must embrace this pain but I am pushing back against it. I am pushing back hard. Every time I feel myself breaking down I try to occupy my mind with something else. But this pain must be suffered. I have to allow it to crash over me and allow myself to feel the sadness, the anger and the confusion.

I believe this sorrow will make me better. It will allow me to share common grief and common sorrow with others who loved him as well. Embracing my feelings will make me vulnerable and humble, two traits I resent. Maybe it will also teach me wisdom. Hopefully it will make me more compassionate to the struggles of others. It will help me move forward. Life is sometimes cold and cruel. It is full of pain and heartbreak. But it is also unfathomably beautiful, and generous, and good. It is also full of love and joy. Leron is the proof of all those things.