(forgive me, this is disjointed, unedited, and perhaps cryptic)

I pulled on my mittens and the tuque my mum knit me last winter as we walked out to our cars. Work was finally over and it’s getting cold outside again. For some odd reason the darkness was bracing, the cold comforting. Behind the steering wheel I took a deep breath and reeled in a days worth of wandering thoughts. Its time to go home, time to reflect, and to prepare. Nearly time to be with dear friends and remember those who are no longer here.

This morning, my friend Brian went on to glory. And here we are grieving while he is so fully alive in ways that I cannot yet begin to understand. It feels so short sighted on my part, but here I remain and this is what I feel. Tears fall as memories of laughter abound.  To tell you Brian was a man full of joy is an understatement. He lived every moment of his 27 years. He was faithful even unto the end of his life here with us. I am blessed beyond measure for being able to have called him friend- to have those memories of laughter.

Within moments the snow began to fall- an odd sight here, but welcomed nonetheless. And, despite the grief weighing heavily on my heart, I smiled. There is always grace and always beauty here in this world ransacked by sin and death. And it dawned on me, as I drove home, that we can celebrate my friend’s life with our tears just as much as we can with our memories. That mix of happy and sad always (always.) backed by joy and a knowledge of the truth.

Rest in peace, worship in glory, dance with joy until we meet again my dear friend.