It Ends with a Comma

the story continues ...

My friend Greg died in the middle of the night, in the middle of the week, in the middle of what should have been the happiest time of his very productive life. His death was difficult at the end, as many deaths are, but he was surrounded by a caring group of friends and family for the final weeks of his life, and he died in the loving hands of his husband, Danny. He knew that he was loved and valued, and that he had made a difference.

Even when it is expected, death is a shock. One second, there is life, and the next, the spark is gone and the person we knew is a memory. As the grieving begins, the next shock is that life continues. Bills must be paid, food prepared, and gas put in the car. We take the time that we can to remember, and to be with others who loved him, and to share comfort where we can. But life continues to intervene.

There is value in the rituals that we have created — the funerals and memorial services, the prayers and the cards and the gatherings. They remind us that life is short, and we must share our kindness and our caring while we can. They also allow us to take a moment to contemplate the spiritual questions that we often ignore. What happens next? Is it true that we live on, or did someone make that up?

I choose to believe that death is not the end, that the sentence that is our life is punctuated not with a period, but rather a comma.

The Apostle Paul said it best:

For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8: 38-39)

Rest in peace, Greg.