The Aftermath

When the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima havoc was wreaked. However, it was not over. After the bomb fell, the havoc had just begun. The aftermath of what fallowed was nothing short of hell itself.

On September 11th, 2001, terrorists attacked our country by crashing two planes into the World Trade center killing thousands. However we still see the effects of what happened. For weeks bodies were pulled out of the wreckage. And even today, over five years later, when we look at where these two buildings stood we see a huge hole.

Last month, when I learned of my brother’s death, I was hit hard. It knocked me off my feet. It was a very numbing experience. I didn’t know how or what to feel. It was like nothing I have ever experienced. Today, over a month later, as life seems to carry on, the numbness has begun to wear off. I no longer feel the initial shock of the tragedy that was experienced, but the reality begins to sink in deeper and deeper. No longer is the first conversation I have with people related to my brothers death. I feel as if I am in the aftermath of a horrible tragedy.

I was recently talking to a firefighter about this and he shared with me some of his feelings about 9/11. He shared with me how each year he has a special flag he hangs at half-mast to remember that awful day. People have forgotten and have moved on. The truth is that there still remains a giant hole and will continue to remain a hole.

Benji has left a giant hole in my life and it hasn’t gone away. The dust has settled, and the pain medication has begun to wear off, and the pain is once again setting in. It is a different pain; one not quite as excruciating, but more constant. There is something missing in my life. Something I held dear. It was ripped from me. Torn from my possession. And although I know I must move on, the wounds and the scars still remain. The pain continues to linger on with no sign of letting up. Why must life continue?

In the case of the atomic bomb, the aftermath can be just as deadly, if not more, than the initial shock. People died by the thousands from the radiation that was a result of the bomb. Those who didn’t die faced deformities in their bodies. There lives were never the same. Benji will never be a part of my earthly life again. This is hard to grasp and very difficult to live with. It is hard to continue—day after day, moment after moment. My life will never be the same again. There is something missing. Something is not right and while I am still here on this earth it will never be made right again. Death is not supposed be easy. It doesn’t just go away.

Skiing...

This last week my wife and I were privileged to have my two younger brothers stay the week with us. On Thursday we decided to go skiing. What a day it was; 23 degrees and snowing. This was my younger brothers first time skiing since Benji's accident. It was quite an experience. Although it doesn't quite resonate with my theology of heaven, I couldn't help but wonder if Benji was tearing up the slopes where he was while we were ripping em up down here. There is not much more an experience that brings you closer to heaven (for some such as Benji it brought him all the way). My two brothers, wife, and I were skiing in powder up to our waist. This was no ordinary powder either. This was the driest powder the Oregon Mountains get. This was just about as close to heaven as one could this side of it.

As we were riding up the lift, reflecting on Benji and how much we longed to be skiing with him at that moment, my wife reminded me just how much of a spiritual experience skiing was for Benji. Benji felt closer to God in no other activity. As I thought about this I could not help but think of Eric Liddell in the movie "Chariots of Fire". When questioned by his sister about his love for running and his call to missions in China, he said "I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure." For my brothers and I (Benji included) this has very much been our sentiments when it comes to skiing. God has made us all for a purpose but he has also given us gifts and passions. My brothers and I have a passion for skiing. When we ski we feel God's pleasure, and God's presence. For us, skiing is an act of worship.

I like to believe that as Benji died, he was worshiping the God he loved, bringing him pleasure, as he was doing what he loved to do more than anything. This was Benji's final act of worship on this earth. And for that he would not have chosen any other way to end his life on earth; worshiping the God he loved.

Dear Benji

Dear Benji,
As the holidays have come to a close I reflect back on this past month. What a month it has been. You gave us all quite a shock. Definitely what we were all least expecting came to pass. The very instrument that you used for 20+ years to bring joy to countless lives was taken from us. You decided you no longer needed it. This has brought a flood of emotions for hundreds. Your life impacted more than you could ever have imagined. The life you lived was like no other.

Although you were not physically with us on Christmas morning we decided to leave your Christmas stocking up and place a letter or object we would like to give you in it. These we would share with each other on Christmas morning. The week prior I had began to think about what I was going to place in your stocking. As Christmas Eve came I finally settled on a single red rose. No letter or note, just one red rose.

In our culture the symbol of a red rose represents love. As I placed the rose in your stocking, I gave you my love. I am sorry, so very sorry, that I waited for so many years to show my love to you. It was not until I was a senior in high school when I finally began to love my brother. And for that I am deeply sorrowed. But I am grateful for the opportunity, the time I had, to show you my love before it was too late. As you died, the depth of love I had (and still do) for you has become oh so evident. Your death hurts Benji! It really hurts bad! REALLY BAD!

As I laid in bed on Christmas Eve I decided that every Christmas from here on out I would place a single red rose on your grave, over the instrument you used to bring so much joy and to touch many. I will never forget your life, nor will I forget the love I have for you. This rose will forever serve as a reminder not only of the love I have for you, but also of the great need to love others. I love you Benji, and I long - more than anything - to be with you once again. But until then...