Dear Friends;
I don't have a whole lot of energy left today, but I wanted to share with you
the message I gave at Tad's funeral today.
"Today we are carrying a very heavy basket of grief. My heart is with you
all, Tad's family and his friends. I know the road you walk. I walk it with you.
Everyone has a basket that they carry. You know the one I speak of...it's
full of all the joys and blessings, and all the concerns, hurts and losses that
we experience throughout our lives. Some baskets are heavier, some are lighter.
Each individual basket differs from day to day. A loss such as we experienced
when Tad died leaves us with an overwhelming weight in our baskets.
Tad carried his own basket, and for the most part, we thought he was carrying
it well. There were some very heavy losses in Tad's life that weighed him
down, such as the death of his dad when he was seven. There were other times in
his life when Tad found that his basket was lightened...by his times
dirt-biking with his buddies, playing practical jokes on everyone around him,
and
sitting squished in the same chair as his mom.
What we didn't know is that Tad was finding that his basket was growing
heavier and heavier, and the lighthearted joys and blessings of his life were
doing
nothing to make his load lighter. There was something in the way of his
seeing that there were others around who would have helped him carry the load,
if
we had only known what help he needed..
When the basket of life gets too heavy to carry, we can be pulled downward by
its weight. We look down, not up. We concentrate all our strength on holding
on, seeing only the basket at the ends of our fingers. We don't have the
energy to reach out, because we are afraid we'll drop the basket if we do.
We may recognize that our lives are becoming somehow different, and that
things are not going right. But instead of being able to ask for help, we just
drop another heavy rock in our basket...the one labeled "I should be able to
take
care of this myself, and there's something wrong with me if I can't."
We feel ourselves pulled down, weighed down, burdened. And then we may drop
another rock in the basket, the heaviest one of all. "I'm no good any more. The
world will be better off without me." Once that rock has dropped into the
basket, its weight can cloud our vision and shut off our minds from the hope
that
others around us are constantly and lovingly offering us.
Tad must have, at some point in the last few weeks, reached that point. The
depression that caused him to keep adding heavy rocks to his basket kept him
from being able to look up, to ask for help, to see the hope. And so, he left
us, not because of anything we did or didn't do, but because of whatever it was
that was keeping him from understanding the love we had for him.
And now we have a heavy basket of our own to carry. We grieve Tad's death in
every fiber of our beings. We question why, and demand answers...from our
friends, from adults around us, from God. Anger bubbles up in us...why Tad?
He was such a good kid. Why so violent a death? Tad was a gentle boy. Why us?
We were the ones who loved him. There is a Tad-sized hole in our hearts and
lives, and we don't see any possibility of it ever being filled again.
And so I say to you, carry your baskets carefully. Be aware that you may find
yourself only able to look down and feel the painful weight of grief for a
while. Give yourselves time to mend your broken hearts, understanding that the
stitching will always show and the rip will always be there, but you will be
able to live around it.
Take time to be with friends and family who know how badly you ache for Tad.
Don't be afraid to speak his name, tell his stories, remember his life. From
time to time, set your basket down and examine the rocks in it. Is there one
there that says, "I didn't do enough to save him"?
Try putting that rock aside, just for an hour or so. Tad knows, from the
place he is now, that you did everything you could, everything you knew how to
do.
If you decide to put that rock back into your basket, you may find that it
weighs just a little bit less than before.
Is there a rock that says, "It's my fault"? Take that rock out and smash it
with a hammer. You'll feel better, and the guilt will be in smaller pieces. No
one of us made the choice for Tad. In fact, we all chose life for him. We
didn't know that his basket was pulling him toward death. We didn't know that
something was keeping him from seeing life as a choice.
Is there a rock in your basket that says, "I miss him with all my heart"?
Yes, you do. Take that rock out of the basket. Feel how much lighter it is
without all the other rocks adding to its weight. Paint a dirt bike on the rock
Write a letter to Tad and wrap it around the rock before you put it back.
Hold it tight in your hand and feel it warm up from touching your skin. Talk to
Tad, tell him you never wanted him to go, that you will keep his memory alive
and that you will be his friend forever. The relationship is not ended. It has
changed, but it will never end.
And don't forget about your other friends. Talk to each other. Talk about
Tad, and talk about yourselves. It's okay to hurt. It's important to let others
know what is in your basket. It's life-saving to say "I need help to get
through this." It's life-saving to say "I can help you get through this."
If there is one gift to be found in Tad's death, let it be this: Tad would
not want anyone to suffer like he did. He would want you to be safe, to be
happy, and to live your lives completely. Tad would want you to carry your
baskets
carefully, and to share your rocks of hurt and disappointment and guilt and
sadness with those you love, just to be safe.
Look up and see the hope, whenever you can. If you can't, your basket is too
heavy. Set it down for a few minutes, and look around you. We are all here to
walk with you, to lighten your basket, and to love you no matter what. It's
what Tad would want us to do. How could we not do what he asks of us?"
I hope it brought comfort and strength to those there, and that somehow you
know that without all of you, I could not have made it through this day. Thank
you.