Aftershock

When someone experiences a tragedy, life is inevitably categorized into the "before" and "after" moments. The before moments being the tasks at hand that seemed to daunt your day or your week. The small fights you have with your spouse about picking up dirty laundry or washing a dish off in the sink. At the time, it was what consumed your day, your thoughts, even your actions. Then tragedy hits. Now and forevermore you will remember those consuming tasks as miniscule in hindsight. Why didn't I just let the dirty sock roll off my back? Was it really that big of a deal to have two dirty dishes in the sink? Did I remember to say "I Love You" before he walked out the door? Now life is looked at as the after moments. You can't help but compare the two lives as they drastically differ from  each other.

Yesterday my sweet, loving 51 year old cousin Jeff died of a brain aneurism. To say that I'm heartbroken is an under statement. Jeff was more like an uncle to me than a cousin - he was the oldest grandchild and I am the youngest. I'm having a hard time processing the fact he's gone. It just doesn't seem possible. I'm heartbroken for my Uncle Don and Aunt June, who are having to take on the task of burying their son. I'm heartbroken for Diana, his only sister, who was so close to him. I'm heartbroken for his wife Susan, who loved him dearly and enriched his life. I'm heartbroken for my parents, who loved and treated Jeff as a son. I'm especially heartbroken for his sons, who will now pass every milestone with their dad as a memory. It doesn't seem fair, it doesn't seem possible. 

If anyone knew Jeff, they knew that he was one of the best storytellers out there. He could get a laugh out of anyone - he truly enjoyed it. I know that my Uncle Moose, Janetta and especially my Grandma Ruby welcomed Jeff with loving arms yesterday. He's probably got them on the floor rolling in laughter. Until I see you again Jeff - I love you!

Jeff Lincoln