Platitude: A statement that expresses an idea that is not new; a flat, dull, or trite remark, especially one uttered as if it were fresh or profound.
Let me start by saying this: we all know how awkward that moment is when you try to comfort someone who is going through something awful. We all want to be the one who says something that brings some momentary comfort. Never before did I know that that is truly impossible. Ok, to be fair, maybe not impossible. But you're bringing maybe a small ray of sunshine into an otherwise cavernous abyss. I never knew what it was like to be the one on the receiving end of the platitudes.
"He's not suffering now, and he would've." ; "He's with God."; "God has a plan for this in your life."; "Remember the happy times."
Let's tackle these one at a time.
1. You're absolutely right on this one. He would've. And being the Christian woman I am, I tend to see this as God's mercy and grace. God took him partly to spare him what would've been a horrible reality for Nick. Nick loved the great outdoors. He loved to barbecue, ride his bike, and work in his shop. I didn't really see him sit except to drink a beer with friends or wait for some que to cook. So yes, he would've suffered. But that doesn't make this reality any less awful. I'm here. He's there. And I must live out what feels like eternity before I see him again.
2. Yes, and again, thank God for that. This one is a comfort, actually. I know my brain cannot possibly comprehend the peace my friend must feel being in God's presence for eternity, but again, I also know he's not here with me. I can't call, text, or visit.
3. Please don't ever say this again. It makes me want to throw things. What good plan could possibly include the death of someone so near and dear to me at a time that was so full of promise? I had finally thought God was answering my prayers. And it's not even that. Regardless of the way things ended up with us, Nick is loved and needed by so many here. This plan sucks. Sorry, God. God can take my anger. He's heard a lot of it lately. Check out the Psalms. I'm not the first or the last to scream at Him.
4. I do. All the time. And it is amazing and heartbreaking all at the same time. When you spend enough time with someone, you talk about the future. What you want to do, dreams you have, and how they fit into that. To think of all the happy times is also to remember all the conversations about trips to the Adirondacks, and down to Nashville. The headboard we still had to build. The dresser in your shop that needs a woman's touch. The media room in my house. All the projects we wanted to do. The trips we wanted to take. The concerts we wanted to see.
The most heartbreaking reality in all of this is that no one can ever be you, Nick. No one. I try to remember all the things I love about you because as the days pass, I imagine all those things as sand in an hourglass, slipping through my hands. Your laugh- I could listen to it forever. Especially the devilish one when you had a prank prepared. The way you'd look at me like you couldn't get enough. Your love of your dogs. The way you could take a project and put your own spin on it. The way your eyes would light up when you'd talk about your siblings and nieces and nephews. The way you could just as easily talk about something philosophical and deep, like your biggest fear. The way you could make anyone a friend. Your smile. It is one of the most beautiful things to me and one forever ingrained in my mind's eye.
God makes each of us beautiful and unique. He brings us into each other's paths for distinct reasons, at just the right time. He is the creator and cares for each of us more than we can know. I hardly think it's an accident that you reached out to me this past June. We spent two awesome months together a very short time before you went home. God designed that. And I'm so thankful to Him for it. It has made your leaving so much more difficult. But I have so many memories of you. When I prayed today, I told God that when He took you home, you took a piece of my heart with you. I suppose that's a platitude. But it comes from my heart, Nick. You will always have a piece of my heart. A big chunk actually.
A friend recently said to me: I'm sorry your heart has a Nick shaped hole in it. I couldn't have said it better myself. You are one of a kind, Nick. Always have been, always will be. I know I'm one of many here missing you, but I like to think that I have a piece of your heart, too.
"Death has no power to keep apart a love forged so deeply in a person's heart."
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