Going to a funeral

Tomorrow I'm going to a funeral alone.  I'll be attending the funeral of Andrew Raiford.  He's a complete stranger to me.  His family doesn't know me but I know them and that's why I'm going.  You see, his father and mother, Dwight and Iris Raiford are the founders of the Harlem Little League.  This couple was bold in their vision to set up a baseball program as a tool to enrich the lives of children in Harlem.  We all know that Harlem is a hurtin' community that doesn't get the support it deserves.  This league has made a difference in the lives of hundreds of children and their family, the league made a difference in our lives.  So I'm going to honor Mr. and Mrs. Raiford because they're going to need all the support they can get to get through this.  Perhaps my presence will make a difference, perhaps not.  It doesn't matter.

This death is tragic.  Andrew didn't die from cancer, or an accident where the cause of death is clear.  The funeral announcement didn't mention cause of death so my friend probed a little and we were stunned.  Andrew committed suicide.  I can only imagine what his parents must be going through.  Here they've been able to save so many young lives but their own son died.  There are many reasons for suicide. Perhaps it could've been that he was medically depressed so this was his fate that no one - no one, not even his parents - could save him from.  It doesn't matter why.  Two loving parents lost their son under tragic circumstances last week.

The first funeral of my life was my maternal grandfather when I was just 1 year old.  I don't remember it - don't even know if I attended.  He sucumbed to his illness and passed away.  Since then I've been to numerous funerals.  The earlier ones were for people whom I had a direct relationship with - my boss and mentor who died from stomach cancer leaving behind a wife and 2 young children, my maternal grandmother whom K was blessed to have barely met before she died from pancreatic cancer.  The more recent funerals were actually for people I didn't know but I knew the living - my girlfriend and mentor whose father passed away from old age, another friend whose aunt who raised her passed away from medical complications.

No death is easy to swallow nor should it be swallowed so easily.  Remember 9/11?  That had a huge impact on all of our lives.  On 9/11, D was 5 blocks away from the towers when they collapsed.  We were lucky, very lucky.  D could've been in the towers since he did frequent business there but on this morning he was tucked away safely in his office.  I considered myself lucky that I didn't know anyone directly who had died in the towers.  Sad for all those lives lost but feeling lucky that I didn't know any of those faces intimately.  That changed 3 years ago.  I met one of my former youth group students who at this point was a man.  I was concerned that he looked so haggard, out of sorts - something wasn't right with him.  I asked about his brother and that's when he looked at me puzzled, asking if I didn't know that he had died in the towers.  My heart broke - I cursed God for taking away this privilege of not knowing anyone who died that day.  Now I cannot remember that day without thinking of the brother who died.  But moreso, I think about the brother who lived.  The brother whose shoulders are now weighed down being the only child left living for his parents, the brother who lost a brother so tragically, the brother whose face is etched with the scars and wounds of this event, the brother who lives this with tragedy in his heart, the brother whose life is forever changed by this event.

You see, I used to think funerals were a time to pay respect to the dead.  Now I know it's really more about paying respect to the living.  They are the ones who have to live on with the memory of the one who passed.  They have to keep on living in spite of the pain.  And the worst kind of pain happens when you question if the death could've been prevented or at least delayed.  It's not fair.  What could I have done?  Why didn't they just talk to me?  Did I miss a sign?  So many questions that will never have answers nor do I think they are answerable.

The pain is deep for the living and the healing process is long and hard.  It's in those times, they need to be surrounded by the love of their family, friends and community.  This is why, though I'm a stranger to the Raifords, I will be going to Andrew's funeral alone.  Of course, you're welcome to come but I won't invite you.  I'm going alone to pay my respect to the dead, and the living.