Pain.

The back of the poster board says, “bring your ideas to life.” The juxtaposition is hard to digest at a funeral – a 16-year old’s funeral. The poster board made for school projects should be reflecting the active living of a young person learning and growing in every way. Now, that living has stopped. Instead, the board holds all the photos his life will ever hold.  A select few memories is all the physical evidence  left of this young man: a soccer player, friend, son, brother, nephew, cousin. But there is so much more.

I did not know this young man, so I cannot possibly know. I cannot peek into his family and friends' heads and watch their memories unfold like a movie.  Yet as a human, as a parent, I know. I know  there is so much beyond these boards and pictures. Frustration and setbacks. Spontaneous laughter. Endless questions. Sick days. Peaceful days. Boring days. The everyday life that took place between Halloween costumes, Christmas gatherings and vacations. I imagine those ordinary days in the blank spaces of these poster boards meant for life. Those photos only give us hints of the person he was and remind us of all he will no longer experience.

His lungs will no longer burn from a fast sprint. His arms will no longer embrace a person he loves. His eyes will no longer drip hot tears nor will his legs carry the heavy ache of weariness. His stomach will no longer flutter when he meets a special person. He will no longer experience the victory of overcoming a big project. Or a big fear. He will never know the struggles and joys of parenthood. Or marriage. Or divorce. Or landing his first job. Or a soul-crushing rejection.

And I mourn for him, for his family, for his friends, and for the people he will never meet.  For the memories desperately clung to. For the memories that will never be made. Life on this earth, for them, will not be as full without him.

It is both the beauty and sorrow of life that makes us human. Pain is humanity. And to deny the existence of pain and sorrow is to deny aspects of our human selves.  Rather, we must embrace the pain, the ache of humanness, and the acceptance of our fragility. At any moment our pain may end, but so does the beauty of living.

I wish there was a way to let this young man understand that. He had so much pain. Pain that clouded the tremendous experience of life. Pain that tipped the scale that allows pain and joy to coexist. Pain that needed help. Pain that led to an irreversible decision. A decision that will affect the members of his family, his friends, and his community forever.

His human life is over. The joy is gone but so is his pain and suffering.  In our own pain and suffering, I hope and pray that this thought may bring comfort. That it helps balance our own scales of pain and joy. That it allows us to see those photos and remember the joy of a life that ended in so much pain. And that it allows us to embrace our own pain as our own humanity.