Hard Summer

I read an interesting quote over at "And sometimes tea" it's from from Mason Cooley, and goes like this "Writing about an idea frees me of it. Thinking about it is a circle of repetitions."
And so I beg your patience while I try it out.
It's been a hard summer. Death is everywhere. A friend at church who died in a car accident on the way to choir practice. My youngest son's den leader dying from cancer. My oldest son's assistant scoutmaster on the last leg of his earthly journey, also from cancer. I am not new to this. My dad died when I was 20. I've had a grandmother die and the lady who was like a second mother to me, who kept me while my parents worked from the time I was 6 weeks old till I was in 5th grade died last summer. Her husband and two boys, again like a second family, having preceded her. Less than a month after returning from Iraq, a friend of mine was shot down and killed. It was at that point that this death thing got really hard. Don't get me wrong, when a boy loses his dad, he never gets over that, but lately it just seems to be piling up. My dad had a bad heart and had a heart attack and a stroke before his second heart attack finally took him as he walked/jogged his dailey 2 miles (I think this proves exercise is bad for you but I could be wrong). He was 55.
As young as that is, and it's younger every year, I could kind of explain that, I guess I saw it coming. And maybe that's why this summer has been so hard, and why my friend getting shot down was so hard- I didn't see it coming and it doesn't make sense. To quote my 13 year old after a visit to his assistant scoutmaster in the hospital. It sucks. He is leaving behind an 18 year old boy and a wife. Our den leader leaves behind a wife and 3 boys under 8, one born just this last December. My pilot friend a 3 year old and a wife. My son is right. It sucks. and I hurt all over sometimes and the hurt stretches, like an ugly un-healed scar, all the way back 24 years. My comfort in this, is that God thinks death sucks too. I once read a translation of Jesus' reaction to Lazarus' death as something akin to "the snort of war horse," God hates death. It's not the way He intended and some day, the pain will be gone and the tears will be dried. In the mean time, God weeps with us.