Acknowledging the Good

Acceptance Without Understanding. That’s what the sermon was about, and I felt like the preacher was staring right at me. Three months earlier, we’d lost our son, Steve. His siblings lost their big brother; his wife lost her soulmate; his three young sons lost their daddy. Steve’s death made no sense. He shouldn’t have been taken; he was too good; he was so loved. I didn’t understand it, and I knew I never would. But when I left church that Sunday morning, I decided I should try to accept it.

I gave it my best shot. But no can do. Not now, anyway. Maybe sometime. Maybe later. But acceptance implies consent, agreement, my total surrender to God’s will. I’m not there. I don’t consent. I don’t agree. I don’t accept it.

All I can do is acknowledge it. Steve is gone. I acknowledge the loss, the pain, the sadness. And although I’d rather blow snot bubbles under the weighted blankness of darkness, I have to acknowledge the truth of something Steve’s oldest son told me. “You were lucky, GG,” Landon said. “You had my dad for thirty-eight years. I didn’t even have him for eight years.” My heart, already broken, shattered into a million pieces. But Landon was right. We were lucky.

Steve showed us how to live kindly, with purpose, with exuberance. He strove for excellence in all he loved; mediocrity wasn’t an option. Yet, though driven, his focus was tempered by his complete love of life. Steve inhaled intensity and exhaled chill. He saw more, did more, and touched more than most do in decades more. How blessed we were to have known and loved Steve.

There’s good in our memories, and there’s good in the love. Steve was SO loved. On November 10, all the love from the hundreds who loved him, transformed into grief. So much grief! But I’ve come to think that, if we allow it, our grief can become love again —not toward the big guy in flannel we loved, but, rather, toward his memory, his legacy, toward Allie and their boys.

If we let it in, there’s light out there, light brought into our lives by the love of so many. Family and friends have founded the DWYERFIRE GOLDSTAR Foundation, aimed at empowering Gold Star Children through sports and fitness. Various organizations and friends have stepped in to assist financially and emotionally. I acknowledge, with gratitude, the good, the support, the love that surrounds us.

At this point in my personal journey, acceptance is a bridge too far. I wanted Steve around longer. I’ll never understand why he was taken from us. Though I don’t accept this, I do acknowledge, with gratitude, the example Steve set, the joy he brought. I was blessed to have him in my life. We all were.