Burying a Child

This weekend I went to a funeral. It’s the first I’ve been to in a while and I hope the last for even longer. The guy that passed was under 50. I worked with his wife at the gym, which is how I met and got to know him. Their daughter cheered for us and their son cheered at another gym, but was often hanging around ours. They are a family of good people, really good people. They all seemed to be doing well, better than I imagine most are while going through something similar. I’m sure they’ve had and will have their moments, but they have each other and a good support system of family and friends to lean on.

The hardest part of it was watching his father. I’ve heard people say a parent should never have to bury a child, but this was the first time I’ve seen it happen. I hope I never have to see it again. As little as you can say to a wife that lost her husband or a child that lost their parent, there is absolutely nothing to say to a parent that lost a child.

I know this family is going to be okay. It will take a minute, but they are too strong not to be okay. Their friends and family will be there for them when they need a shoulder or a moment away. I’ll also be there with a Maker’s and Coke whenever one is needed.