"Death, Where Is Thy Sting?"

More and more it seems Death has placed the sting of loss directly into my heart. Directly into your heart. Our hearts. As years pass by, and we tally the loves lost due to Death's far-reaching hands, we can see an ever-growing mountain of hurt and pain.

So Death ..... where is thy sting? I'll tell you, Dark Sir, as if you do not already know. Your sting is peircing relentlessly, the very tip of your blade in the middle of my heart. The silence left by your heartache is deafening, so loud that my thoughts get lost. Like Edgar Allen Poe's The Tell-Tale Heart, the continuous beating of a grevious heart is merciless on one's physical and mental being. Madness is around the corner and sadness no longer rents a space in our being because it has taken up a permanent residency.

A mourning heart is a beast of burden as well as a cataclysm of emotions. To have one so-hurt heart, life is forever changed. Death's sting is not only evident in that which is taken from us but also by that which is given to us.

So Hope ..... where is thy shield? Death and Satan are heartless in their attacks of the heart. Hope? Please come quickly. Did I say a mourning heart is a beast and a cataclysm? Yes I did, but even more so than that, a heart in mourning is a mighty tool of love. No, I haven't started in on any wine now. Tempting though.

A heart in pain results in some actions never before taken, or in some first steps that were long overdue. Death hurts but love heals. In my early teens, it was the love of my best frend Roger, towards his deceased older brother that pushed him to make something of his life. His own parents were forced into loving only one son .... but they loved him harder and with more focus now. Death stung the family by removing the eldest son but love healed the family by bringing them closer together.

Death is a mighty adversary but love reign's supreme. At the funeral of my father's mother, without even the first thought to do so, I found myself coming to the front row and grabbing both my parents and hugging them around the neck at the same time and simply saying, "I love you". Death stung my father and mother with the removal of a parent but love pushed a son and his siblings to show that family is there.

As I and three friends attended the funeral of Benjamin's grandfather, we all cried and felt depressed together, but we were alone in our actions. We were not alone in our loss but alone in our open sadness. Ben's grandparents were the protectors and providers for Ben and his brother. They were old school and straight-nosed, no punches thrown and in-your-face honest ..... with a smile every time. At the grandfather's funeral, his elder friends and family rejoiced because he was a man of God, lived long and lived well. Death stung Benjamin and his brother by removing such an inspirational figure but love showed a group of young punks that joy comes early for those who know the Lord.

My father-in-law acted like he didn't like me, simply because everytime he truly disliked Summer's old boyfriends she would seem to keep dating them. So to keep Summer dating me, he openly (but lovingly and jokingly) disapproved of me. As a man, and a humorist, my father-in-law, Randy, would NEVER hug me. NEVER!!!! That is OK though, because really, we didn't sit aroud hugging anybody and everybody anyway. Years into my relationship with Summer, Randy's mother took ill and was in her last days as we would later find out. Summer and I went to visit her but on one of the last nights of visiting her, a glow seemed to be present in the area of her room. What it was, I couldn't have said then, but now I can say it was the haloes of Saints come to await Queen Anna's journey to Heaven's Gates.

The next day, as I sat in the kitchen, Randy walked through the front door, into the kitchen, put his arm around me, his head to my head and said."Ya'll made her feel real good last night. Thank you." No Randy .... thank you. Days later Anna passed. After the service we went to our cars and Randy cried as a good son would. As we walked, I placed my arm around him and we both just nodded that knowing nod of comfort and concern. Death stung Randy by removing his mother from him but love showed all that no matter how much of a role we play on the surface, we let those who need to know see that we care for them.

With Summer's father, Randy, now passed, Death has seemingly acquired a special blade just for us. A blade with rigded edges and a poisonous tip. When will he remove his blade from our hearts? Will we succumb to the poison he has intruded upon us? Can love even get a foothold in this battle?

Jesus is playing the Back 9 with Randy as I type this. Jesus is running through the fields of Gold with Randy's mother, Betty's mother, my father's parents, my mother's dad, my friends of the past, my cousin Derek, and many others who Death swatted from our lives. Love though? Love has stood beside me, tooth and nail, shield and sword, hand in hand, and repeatedly looked Death directly in the eyes and demanded,"Where, O Death, is your victory, where is your sting? God gives us victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."

"He-Man and Conan May Be Men but They Cannot Be THAT Man"

I have always tried to be a good guy. I have had a tendency be more of a bad boy. Yet years of life have shown me to be a good man. I hope one day to have been seen and remembered as a GREAT man .... or as a GRAND man as my father-in-law is now known. Ironically, he referred to me only as a Big Ugly man, but with love.

As a "man", it has been in my nature to just act as if I do not need anybody to do anything for me ...... but I am gracious enough to accept a helping hand. I have always found myself being a stellar employee at any job, even my position in hell directly under Satan herself. It was actually a mailroom and Satan was the "second-in-command", gossip-infested, diarrhea-of-the-mouth-liar. I actually believed at one point that I could not give that company the high expectations they wanted of all employees and that I would eventually be fired along with the other line of terminated suckers. To think like this was uncommon because I have been instilled with a get-it-done job mentality and never conceited to being an under-achieving employee.

After about 6 weeks, I got the hang of how things worked, incorporated my own OCD'ed work system and became a valued (yet overworked) employee. By the time my worth was evident, I was blessed with a new job with my degree in graphic arts. Adios el Diablo, I have finally found my piece of the PIE!!!!!!!

I am not getting at that I am almighty and awesome, only God is. But it is through His love and desires that I believe in being strong and resilient, only conceiting to God's arms when needing to fall out. I feel that if there is an issue, as a man, I can lend something to the situation no matter how big, little or eventually unused on my part.

Men, in general, want to feel that they are needed. We are in existance to fix things that are broken, to break things that are useless, to build things that are grand, to .... well, you get the picture. We do not understand defeat and only see our failures as lessons of growth and chances for a second attempt. What we cannot comprehend is when we are in fact not needed in anyway, shape or form.

On that note, NO, this is not an introduction to an anti-GLAAD Public Service Announcement.

This is an overworded attempt to show why, in my little mind, that I feel inadequate in the face of my wife's mourning. Her loss of her father, grevious to myself as well as anybody who knew him, is a hit that I cannot heal. I am not in existance to fix this thing that is broken, to break the chains of pain, or to build a pain-reliever.

I ache for myself but helplessly yearn to heal my wife. I cannot do anything for my wife's pain beyond prayer and concern. These two things are great to have but as a man, I am programmed to think that I can do all things I set my mind to ...... even put the toilet seat back down.

I am He-Man and I can defeat the evil forces that be. I am Superman and I can jump buildings in a single bound. I am Conan, the strongest panther of a man to brute his way through the wilderness. I am a warrior. I am a cowboy. I can inspire other men and impress many women (in a respectful way). I can build a house (but I wouldn't try to inhabitate it). I can love my wife like a man should. I can rasie my son to be another man. I can love Jesus like all real men should. I can overcome Death's grasp through the blood of Jesus. I CAN be that man.

I cannot take my wife's pain away. I cannot build, fix, disassemble or revamp any kind of contraption to alleviate my wife's suffering and mourning. I CANNOT be that man.

I can love her. I can be there for her. I can believe that Jesus will make all things right ..... in His time. I can believe more than ever that the remarkable utterance of one verse, over the past few weeks, repeatedly stated by many who do not know that anybody else has said it, is divinely interjected by God as a promise: "Joy will come in the morning" because joy will come in the mourning.