We said goodbye to a lovely young man this week. It's hard even to say, I have had a rough time putting it into words. Tragically, my 24-year-old cousin was killed on the job last Sunday. The week was mostly spent in shock and with family. The Vancouver contingent drove up to attend the celebration of life yesterday in Squamish, and my folks and I stayed to visit with family after the service until quite late. It was heartbreaking but wonderful to hear all the stories told, and how much he was loved by all, and how well he lived every moment. One of the boys said he was known for turning up the volume a notch every time he heard something he liked, and that that was an apt metaphor for how he had lived his short life. His brother spoke and said that being Sam's brother was the greatest privilege, and I grabbed my own brother's arm tightly and let the tears come.
All around the hall there were poster collages of Sammy's life, and the photos of moments I remembered hit me hardest of all. Seeing Sam's brother and his dear sweet mother (who said, "you know we've always enjoyed your postcards" and made me cry all the harder as we left the hotel restaurant late last night) struggling was more than I could bear or imagine.
Carson and I have both been taking stock in the last few days and wondering about life. Nothing makes sense except living well and loving every precious moment.