In Memoriam

A few days ago, a close family friend, Dennis Blackburn (pictured on the far right with Travis and my dad) unexpectedly passed away. This came as a great shock to our family as he was my dad's closest friend. We lived in the house across the street from this family and our two families grew up together. My dad worked closely with Dennis in church service and looked up to him as a great man and steadfast example. Even Travis had the opportunity to get to know him and some of his family members as they joined us on a trip to South Africa (here they are in Cape Town).

I do not personally know what it is like to lose a very close friend, but I can imagine this loss must be nearly as hard for my dad as it is for Dennis's own family. (Since I know my daddy reads my blog, this one is for him.) Again I'm turning to the Great Writers to plagiarize written emotions that I lack the capacity to express myself.

My all-time favorite poet is Alfred, Lord Tennyson, and one of my favorite (very very long) works of his is "In Memoriam A. H. H." Tennyson also lost his closest friend, Arthur Hallam, unexpectedly and at an absurdly young age. The loss affected him for the rest of his life and he even named his firstborn son Hallam after his friend. His elegy is full of anguish and doubt, but I love the honesty behind it. Here is just a sampling: (random selections but in the correct order)

Strong Son of God, immortal Love,
Whom we, that have not seen thy face,
By faith, and faith alone, embrace,
Believing where we cannot prove;

Forgive my grief for one removed,
Thy creature, whom I found so fair.
I trust he lives in thee, and there
I find him worthier to be loved.

I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

I falter where I firmly trod,
And falling with my weight of cares
Upon the great world's altar-stairs
That slope through darkness up to God

I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope,
And gather dust and chaff, and call
To what I feel is Lord of all,
And faintly trust the larger hope.

Dost thou look back on what hath been,
As some divinely gifted man,
Whose life in low estate began
And on a simple village green;

Who plows with pain his native lea
And reaps the labor of his hands,
Or in the furrow musing stands:
"Does my old friend remember me?"

I leave thy praises unexpressed
In verse that brings myself relief,
And by the measure of my grief
I leave thy greatness to be guessed.

*****

Our thoughts and prayers are with the Blackburn family and their loved ones.