Billy Coffey
Billy Coffey

A fate worse than death

April 27, 2010  

image courtesy of photobucket.com

image courtesy of photobucket.com

Last Saturday I donned my best suit and tie and drove to the local funeral home, where I faced the unenviable task of expressing condolences to a family suffering through the worst kind of pain: the death of the man who was both husband and father.

Funeral homes rank just below hospitals as Worst Places I Want to Visit, and it’s still a pretty close race.

The reasons weren’t all that obvious. I knew what was waiting for me on the other side of this world, knew that however much suffering and pain involved in getting there was worth the price, and knew that, in the end, everything would be just fine.

I didn’t like funeral homes because I was afraid of death. I was mournful of the pain the dead left behind. Like the pain felt by the wife left to tend to her family, the children left to mourn their lost innocence, and the parents who were burying their son. Parents who once found comfort in knowing they would pass first through the thin veil between this world and the next, but who were now left with the hard-won knowledge that it’s often the things we most take for granted in life that disappoint us in the end.

Standing in front of the open casket, I pondered who this person was. Son and brother. Soldier. Factory worker. Known to his family as Sweetheart and Dad, Lover and Best Friend. Lived a good life. Was a good man.

“It was so sudden, wasn’t it?” sobbed a stranger beside me.

I nodded to her. She was right. He left for the grocery store and offered a quick “Be back soon” to his family, but what came back was merely the earthen vessel I was looking down upon. One moment here, the next gone.

I moved on to others who represented a small portion of his friends and family, engaging myself in the polite and hushed conversations that funeral homes require. Small talk, mostly. Weather and crops first, which merged into recollections of the deceased second, which moved on to the sadness last.

Each exchange brought a variation of the sobbing woman beside me had said moments before.

“It was so sudden,” she had said.

Echoed by others as:

“He passed so quickly.”

“He died far too young.”

“There was no warning.”

I listened to them all, keeping my answers brief. A Yes to the question of “Horrible, isn’t it?” A nod to “Such a shame.”

A shame, yes. Unfortunate and horrible. But as I looked upon the solemn faces of the gathered, I realized there was far worse shame and misfortune in this life. Far worse horrors.

Should the quickness of a death that must come to us all be cause for added grief? Perhaps. But perhaps it would do us all well to remember that the next moment is never guaranteed. And perhaps it would do us all well to know there is a death worse than what I experienced in that room. One that does not strike with speed, but numbness.

Far worse than the buried dead are those who have perished and yet still walk. Those who have yielded to the crushing weight of the world, who have surrendered their hopes and dreams to the arid winds of despair. Who have seen too much darkness and so surrendered their light, believing it to be too faint to matter.

That life must simply be endured is among the worst of lies. We are not merely to tolerate this world, but overcome it. We are called not to plod on, but to laugh and skip.

God commands us not to guard our hearts, but to give them freely. To feel pain instead of ignoring it, if only so that pain can turn to greater joy. To face our struggles with steeled eyes and iron will. To take the arrows of circumstance in our chests, marching forward, and not our backs in retreat.

This is our duty. Our charge. And to fail is to fail both ourselves and our God. It is to meet the end before our ending. That is the worst death. Not the one that robs the body of its soul, but the heart of its passion.

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  • http://topsy.com/trackback?utm_source=pingback&utm_campaign=L2&url=http://www.billycoffey.com/2010/04/a-fate-worse-than-death-2/ Tweets that mention A fate worse than death : Billy Coffey — Topsy.com

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  • http://cheriehillblog.blogspot.com Cherie Hill

    So powerfully written, I face the sadness of these truths you have spoken as I watch a loved one daily commit suicide through alcoholism. I’ve seen the powerful hand of God extended time after time…to embrace, to love, to heal the pain in this person’s heart. But, each and every time the door is slammed shut in the face of God. The mercy of Christ is trampled upon. Each and every moment, the end draws near. It’s difficult never knowing “when” that moment will be. And there will be mourning…but there has been mourning over many years…because “the end has come before the ending.” There is such sadness…over a Son, a husband, a father…a child of God-lost to the world.
    Blessings to you brother,
    Cherie

  • http://www.moonboatcafe.com Cassandra Frear

    To live well from the heart — that’s the hardest thing of all.

  • http://www.ubervu.com/conversations/www.billycoffey.com/2010/04/a-fate-worse-than-death-2/ uberVU – social comments

    Social comments and analytics for this post…

    This post was mentioned on Twitter by PoemsPrayers: RT @gyoung9751: A Fate Worse Than Death, new post by @billycoffey http://www.billycoffey.com/2010/04/a-fate-worse-than-death-2/…

  • http://hisfirefly.blogspot.com HisFireFly

    Beautifully said Billy:

    “To feel pain instead of ignoring it, if only so that pain can turn to greater joy.”

    God was just speaking to me this morning about the fact He created us to feel.. for His purposes and His glory.

  • http://www.debwatson.net Deb Watson

    Well said. So true.

    May we who know the source of life, live our lives passionately, exhibiting the hope that resides within us. May we “take hold of that which Christ Jesus took hold of for us”and live in such a way that others are attracted to the source of our joy.

  • http://verymuchlater.com/ Jake

    “God commands us not to guard our hearts, but to give them freely.” This becomes so much more challenging with age, I think. Maybe it gets easier as you get super-old, I’m not sure. I think it’s another reason why Jesus told us to be like children, because they’re so quick to trust and to love.

    Wonderful post!!

  • http://wp.me/pmU9D-U Marilyn Yocum

    Nothing sadder than a person who stops living before God calls him/her home. When you think about it, so many of our ministering opps relate to helping each other lay hold of life and stay in it. Good post.

  • http://www.pridelandsmommy.blogspot.com *~Michelle~*

    What a heartfelt powerful post, Billy…….I am sorry for the loss of your friend.

    “It is to meet the end before our ending”

    ….this is having me leave with a lump in my throat. wow.

  • http://writingwithoutpaper.blogspot.com Maureen

    I’ve known both the quick and unexpected (my father’s) and the drawn out (my brother’s from cancer). They left through different doors but once they crossed the threshold met again.

    There is no “right” time to be called home. There is only the faith that you arrive where you need to be.

    Namaste.

  • http://aspiretoleadaquietlife.blogspot.com A Simple Country Girl

    Billy,
    I remember this from before…and was actually thinking on it just the other night.

    Still praying for your boy (and his sister, mom, and dad).

    Blessings.

  • http://katshappyathome.blogspot.com Kathy

    Sometimes the people you think help you live are the ones that kill you deep inside. I’m going through that right now.

  • Ginger

    Bravo Billy.

  • http://blog.breakthroughalaska.com jasonS

    I’ve felt those moments where you want to give up and throw those passions away, but I can’t imagine really doing it. Those passions were placed inside me by God. He refines them and directs them, but throwing them away means never fulfilling my purpose. Standing before Him one day, that would be the sadness to end all sadness…

    Thanks Billy.

  • http://www.melissamarsh.net Melissa Marsh

    Wow. That’s all I can say. Wow.
    You are so incredible at writing, Billy. God has blessed you with a gift.

  • http://lexiconluvr.blogspot.com L.T. Elliot

    “Who have seen too much darkness and so surrendered their light, believing it to be too faint to matter.”

    You are such a bonfire. Oh, how I have missed this place.

  • http://godsheart-heart2heart.blogspot.com Kat

    Billy,

    Another one of your award winning posts! You never cease to amaze me with your ability to tell a story that leaves you with so much more than you came with. May we all start our days to make it better than yesterday. Thanks for stopping by when you can. I love your comments and insight.

    Love and Hugs ~ Kat

  • http://extraordinary-ordinary.com Heather of the EO

    Oh wow and YES. Thank you, Billy.

  • http://briancrussell.net bman

    That was a good post (as usual), albeit a bit depressing… but, there is a light at the end of the tunnel (I’m sorry) and it’s up to us to show people that hope!

  • http://joyce-fromthissideofthepond.blogspot.com Joyce

    We aren’t guaranteed tomorrow but most days we live as if we are. I’ve lost two friends in the past couple of weeks, both about my age. A real reminder that we have this moment today. Now. What am I doing with it? I love what Erma Bombeck said…that when she stands before God she wants to say, ‘I used everything You gave me.’

    Hope all went well with your son.

  • http://sandraking-beholding-god.blogspot.com/ Sandra Heska King

    I certainly don’t want to meet my end before my ending. Or lose my passion. And that final passing can be sudden–and young by our standards–yet all in God’s overall plan and control. I always tell my children to never part angry with mean words. That last “I love you” and kiss could be the last.

  • http://www.endeanmom1.blogspot.com Beth E.

    My husband’s mother was a very negative woman. Her entire life was lived in anger and bitterness. At her funeral, her brother told me that she had been that way since childhood. He said she was always critical of everyone and everything, and he couldn’t remember a time she had ever been happy.

    She never knew how to live. To me, that’s the saddest death of all.

  • http://www.joyinthisjourney.com Joy, @writingjoy

    I was a visitation just last night for the father of one of my good friends. We rejoiced with them that he loved God and served him most of his adult life. I realized standing in the long line of people waiting to comfort his family that the tears we shed were the sweet tears of losing a beloved and godly man who lived well.

    These tears were different than the much fewer tears I shed at the loss of my own grand-dad, who I barely knew, who left my mom’s family for another woman and never followed after God. We lost him decades before he died.

    I will never get over the pain of death-separation. I guess it’s a reminder that death was never supposed to be our end, and that one day we will see fully Christ’s victory over it.