death

Saturday night, while tailgating after the game, a friend of ours received a call saying that the father of one of his fraternity brothers just had a heart attack in the parking lot. (We'd seen the ambulance moments before but obviously had no idea who it was for). We left immediately for the hospital and what was to become a very surreal night.

It was a very painful night but I also feel like I grew up a little more Saturday night. I can't really explain the experience yet I feel compelled to do so. My thoughts here aren't going to be very cohesive but then they are very disjointed in my head also.

I'd never been there the moment someone was told a loved one unexpectedly died. It was horrible. They called him back into a "privacy room" and shut the door, just like they do on tv, and then moments later you could hear this gut wrenching wail. My heart shattered, my eyes overflowed and I started praying with all my might. Even now I'm fighting back tears. There is nothing that pains me like the uncontrolled grief of a man. I don't mean the cries of a man who is "in touch with his emotions" and cries as frequently as I do (which there is nothing wrong with, it's just not what tears at my heart). Seeing a stereotypical "man's man" cry breaks my heart every single time. The sound of the raw pain in those uncontrollable sobs is etched into my memory.

What pains me most when I think back on my grandmother's death a few years ago was my father's pain. He's a very stoic person and doesn't easily show his emotions, whether positive or negative. Seeing his silent tears at her funeral and the way he hung onto my mother still makes a knot form in my stomach.

I didn't like this new part of growing up.

However, Saturday night I was also reminded how much I love the area I live in. I love Southern men (and the "mamas" who raised them right). Not to say there aren't good ones in other places (I know quite a few great ones) but there are times when I truly appreciate the respect and mannerisms of Southern men as a whole. We were some of the first people to arrive at the emergency room and I was impressed by how every single man that came into that room took off his hat when he walked in the door. Here was a gesture that at one time I considered unnecessary but at that moment I saw how important it was at showing respect for the solemnity of the situation. I was also in love with every boy there for the fact that while these were "good ol' Southern boys" they were not embarrassed to cry along with the one whose father passed away. They hugged (and not the "we're cool" guy hugs, real hold on to each other hugs) and wept.

For the first time ever I was also impressed with the concept of a fraternity. Not having done the Greek thing (sorry, Barbara, it's the right thing for some people but it wasn't for me) I'd never seen the benefit of it. On Saturday night I saw the power of a fraternity. We were the second carload of people to arrive (just behind those with the guy whose father passed away) so I was able to watch as the brothers began making phone calls to other brothers they knew were in town for the game. The room quickly began filling up. There were even younger brothers there who didn't know the guy. The support system was unbelievable. The wives and girlfriends were all there peripherally. It was the men who were offering comfort to one another and making arrangements (picking up vehicles, moving vehicles, calling his mother, wife, sister, etc.) I'd never seen a situation where men acted as such a cohesive group.

There are so many more thoughts, impressions and lessons that I learned that night but I'm mentally exhausted right now.