As I looked around the room, it resembled a shrine just a little. Pictures, great pictures of Des, Des and Lena, Des and friends on virtually every wall. And with good reason. For a reason that still makes no sense, Des's time with us was forever altered. Changed in the twinkling of an eye.
It was mid-April that he was at home in the afternoon. An unwelcome intruder somehow breached the safety of that home. Not a flesh and blood thief- that kind is easier to see and deal with. No, this was Death himself, there to cut short the years of a seemingly healthy husband, friend, counselor, servant. Des found himself looking into the face of eternity, and it was into its fullness he moved that afternoon. Unknown to everyone, he had an enlarged heart and suffered cardiomyopathy. His life was taken, but not his spirit.
I read a tribute book dedicated to Des. Thoughts, prayers, questions and condolences from friends, church members, students. Many penned by hand, many delivered via Internet. Different stories, different memories, but a common thread- an almost other-worldly kind of love and acceptance from a crazy kind of guy obsessed with gum and peoples' well-being.
The more I read, the more I understood this man whose hair had taken many shapes and colors throughout the years, who took his dog to work with him the first day as a chaplain (just to see what people would say!), and who always seemed to have someone under his wing, learning, growing, or finding refuge.
It became increasingly difficult for me to read because my eyes were watering, my heart breaking. It didn't (and doesn't) seem fair to have someone like Des ripped from us this soon, this quickly. Not fair to his friends and family, not fair to the students who looked to him for guidance, and certainly not fair to Lena. One student wrote, "You always told me life wasn't about fair. I just didn't think it would be this unfair." Those words seemed to sum up my feelings better than any. There's certainly a hole in our world right now.
When it comes down to it, there's much we don't and can't know. But we do know that, despite question and confusion (and yes, unfairness), God loves us and is present. He never said tragedy would bypass us, but that He would walk us through such times, and would work them for good (Romans 8:28). For His purposes, for His glory. For good. But we must decide if we'll believe and trust Him to do that.
We sat and ate that night, the six of us. Chatter, stories, banter and laughter. Later we prayed, and the hurt and tears that are never far away quickly surfaced. It was good, as there's much to work through, and it'll take time. And with all I don't know, there's something that I do. Des would want us to be about his Father's business, to not lose heart and to continue to fight hard. After all, we'll all face this same thief someday, and when that time comes, we want to do it in triumph, in victory, and in assurance of where we're going. Des did, and he'd expect no less from us.
That's how kids who never grow up tend to think.
Location: brisbane, au
