No death is easy. And the ones that come out of the blue knock you off your feet. You don’t know how it happened. Because you just saw him. And he was fine. And he was fine until the massive heart attack struck. And then he was gone. Just lights out.
So what do you say? He didn’t suffer. It was quick. But he was a father. A husband. A grandfather. An uncle. A godfather. And he was one of the good ones. And it came out of nowhere. Literally no warnings. Instant death.
And how do I do this? I’m 3000 miles away and my family is broken. And the glue is gone. And my godfather is gone. And I’m shattered. And I can’t breathe. I just sob. And struggle to breathe. And how? Why? What could possibly be the reason to take him like that? 2 days ago he was playing with his grandson. And now we plan his funeral. And there is only pain. Deep deep pain. And tears. Endless tears. Unequivocal sadness.
There isn’t anything mixed about this. There isn’t an 80 year life to celebrate. There isn’t the end of suffering to comfort us. There isn’t any bad history in our relationship. There are only happy memories.
His smile. His voice. His, “Goddaughter, good to see you.” The christmas brunch. The eye rolls. The love. The happiness. The hugs. The immense patience. The capacity for love. It is a huge hole that he leaves behind. And there is no patch. That is an absence that will be felt permanently.
And my godfather. My uncle. He was one of the best people I knew. And we could go for years without seeing each other and then pick up like it was yesterday. And he was the one who would send a look of sarcasm, or irony or an eye roll across the room to me at functions like this. At weddings or funerals. He made it bearable.
But there will be no more of that. Now we will mourn him. I can’t shoot an expression his way and have him get it.
And I know he will look down from heaven with love. And he will send strength and peace. And now it is our job to pick up the pieces. To remember this extraordinary man. May he send us strength. May he be at peace.