My pain runs deep

When I was maybe in 8th or 9th grade, my brother had a tape that included a song with sound clips from Star Trek V: The Final Frontier: “I can’t stand the pain…Your pain runs deep.” (The song is called “Painkiller” by Mortal.) I don’t remember the song at all (nor the movie, for that matter), but I do remember the way the sound clips were arranged, and I can replay them in my mind.

… Part of the reason I started blogging again was for this post. I’ve been mulling it over for two months, but I don’t really know how to write about something so painful to me. Even thinking about it is like sticking burning needles all over myself.

Someone I love is dying.

I’ve never really been able to say that before. I have been so blessed with loved ones who have great health. Sure, I’ve lost older family members, but either they went quickly, or I didn’t know them well enough to really and truly say I loved them. Maybe I’m heartless, but it’s true. My great-grandmother had just turned 96 when she died, and I loved her. But at that age somehow it’s different.

But this person is much younger, younger than my parents (who are not by any means old). He has little kids still.

Maybe you know him. I won’t give his name because I don’t know if he’s made it public yet. Let’s just call him Kevin.

Kevin has been a mentor and a friend, even though in recent years things have changed as I’ve moved away and started my own family. When I was younger, he challenged me to leave my comfort zone in ways I found terrifying yet exhilarating. He’s encouraged me and built me up, especially in times when I needed it most. He’s shown me what it means to have an older brother in Christ. I guess in some ways he pushed me out of the nest and taught me how to fly.

Of course Kevin isn’t perfect. He’s got his faults just like the rest of us. But his death will be a tragic blow to countless individuals literally around the world. And I carry that pain around inside me.

No, he’s not likely to die overnight. He still has a little while to live out his dreams and see his kids grow a few more inches, to be a mentor and friend to many more people. I know he has so much he wants to accomplish and see. Kevin doesn’t give up easily and will fight as long as he can.

But in the end, we all die, and Kevin is likely to go sooner than most of my loved ones. And his last few months are likely to be painful and debilitating. I wish I knew how to handle that fact, handle the grief. If only I could hang out with Kevin face-to-face and cherish the remaining moments of his life! But for now, this post will have to be my coping mechanism, until I figure out how to deal with this in a more constructive way.

Thanks for bearing my pain with me.