Saturday, November 18, 2006

turning toward the white noise of today

i filled my day with errands: dropping off laundry, balancing my checkbook, getting my car's brakes checked out, having coffee at a neighborhood haunt. in the midst, of re-organizing my closet, it finally spoke to me loudly, in a way that i couldn't turn my back on it any longer.

a year ago my friend todd died. a year already.

sitting on my dresser is a dvd of his memorial service that his mom let me borrow a few weeks ago when we met at a dinner with friends. over that dinner she and her husband chronicled his slide into a mounting mental illness where in the end he wondered if God loved him. it's so hard for me to wrap my mind around that question- he who wrapped the people he encountered with God's love and grace, left little for himself. she told a story of him calling her out of the blue one day, near the day of his death, asking her if they could sing. she was taken aback, "now?" "now."

and they sung for a while. he would sing along and then stop, listening.

five of us, some of his san francisco friends raised $5,000 for suicide prevention and walked 20 miles in his honor and also out of solidarity for his parents earlier this year. i felt particularly grieved for them, as an only child, knowing their only child is now gone. and today, on this day that is actually the national memorial day for suicide, the day when todd took his own life a year ago, i finally popped in the dvd to watch his memorial service. and i wept for him, i weep for them.

when i awoke this morning, i stepped into the shower and prayed for todd's parents, rex and connie. just now, i prayed for them again, on the phone with another only child friend struggling with some heart problems. i pray for them as i drive in my car tonight and hope when you read this that you too would pray.


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