I heard about them before I saw them. A man and his Great Dane who regularly showed up at the same spot multiple times a week. One day, I saw them with my own eyes. The man stood stoically alone with his dog seated next to him. I later learned his story.
This man recently lost his wife to the Corona virus. Another casualty of a never ending pandemic. There is every indication that he dearly loved his wife and they were close. You see, the place he visits daily with his dog is her grave. Standing next to the mound of fresh dirt, and among the assortment of flowers. Grieving her loss. I have never met the man. I know some people who have. I do not know if he or his wife ever trusted Jesus for salvation. He resides about three hours from here.
During this special time of year this man grieves. This most joyous time of the year is not so joyous to him and multitudes just like him. It is dark, sad, lonely, gut wrenchingly hard, bitter, and hard to accept. The dinner table normally set for two now only seats one. Nobody sleeps next to him in the bed except possibly the dog. Days spent in conversation with his bride are now spent in silence. His only constant companion the Great Dane. Nobody sits in the recliner next to him. He is left to prepare his own meals. To find solace in petting his dog. To painfully ponder memories and to hold cherished photographs with her image. The image can never replace the person.
It is a sad scene. A devoted husband keeping vigil at his wife's final resting place. It tugs at the heart. Especially going into Christmas. A time when families gather, embrace, laugh, and make memories. I am reminded there are multitudes who spend their holidays alone. The children no longer visit. Friends do not call like they used to. Some because their health is failing. Some because they have departed into eternity. Christmas cards arrive less frequently. The phone calls are limited to spam solicitor calls.
Television is a constant but cruel companion. Shows remind of the departed loved ones. Jokes are no longer shared. Yet the noise is comforting. It is better than the constant deafening silence. Just hearing the voices from the tv makes it feel a little less lonely.
The grief cuts sharper than a knife. Th heart bleeds emotional blood. The sadness often seeps through into tears that are inconsolable. The eyes become like a leaky faucet that will not quit dripping. Well wishers try to console unknowingly offering worn out cliches like, "If you need anything call me," or, "God works all things together for good," and even, "God wanted another angel." None of these things helps one living with the sting of death cruelly snatching away the person they loved so much. Why do people feel like they have to say something. A hug and a prayer would be far more meaningful and helpful. Just to show up and listen would benefit more than diarrhea of the mouth.
Life will never be the same for this man and his dog. In one final breath, everything changed. He is not the only one feeling this stab in the heart. A pastor friend of mine told me has preached eight funerals in less than two months. People are dying at a rapid rate. Funeral homes are behind schedule. People are grieving longer and longer in between the day of death and their loved ones being buried.
Merry Christmas has faded into "I'll have a blue Christmas without you." My grandmother cried every time she heard that song after my grandfather died. She sought comfort in the bottle to drown her sorrows. It did not work. Nothing could stop the dam of tears the next time she heard that tune.
This is not a holly jolly Christmas for everyone. We would do well to remember those having a tough time through this season. To put the interests of others before ourselves. A strategic text, a timely phone call, a scheduled visit might just make someone's otherwise dark day. A handwritten letter might bring a little cheer into an otherwise dreary day. A listening ear and a shoulder to cry on might be the ministry of Jesus to one of the least of these.
It was comforting to find out that a Christian lady stopped to talk to the man with his Great Dane. A chaplain also stopped by to pray and minister to this grieving widower. Sometimes it takes courage to care. To willfully choose to enter into other people's pain. Jesus did that over and over again. He is still doing it. He just might do it again today through one of us.
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