Dies from a Big Heart

The Drudge Report headline this morning reads "Dies from a Big Heart." I just finished watching the NBC tribute to Tim Russert, and for whatever reason I am reacting to his death like a punch in the gut. I cried like a baby when Matt Lauer's eyes teared up at the end of the tribute. How could it be that I just watched him on the Today Show earlier this week and now he's moved on from this earthly world?

I know that my tears are for more than Tim Russert, who was just 58 years old. Already I've heard several people say, "wow, he was so young," which reminds me each time, poignantly, that my dad was also 58 when he died three years ago. And that no one should be 58 and die. I think about Tim's family, his wife and son who are over in Italy and received some horrible phone call yesterday that their husband and father is just gone. And I shudder at our absolute vulnerability and undeniable, fragile mortality as human beings.

Our pastor gave a sermon once about grief and made the point, "when I go to pray with a family where someone has died, I know the people who really need the prayers are the ones in the room, the ones who will go on living." I believe that it isn't only the grief of the loss that makes it so unbearable, but perhaps, at least for me, the fear and cynicism about living and the future that also accompany it. For all of my genuine desire to dwell on my belief in an eternity of reunion and joy, I can't seem to shake the fear of dying too suddenly, too young or too tragically. My inability to let go of my need for control is possibly most revealed through my fear and doubt as related to death(s) that will not happen on my own terms.

I don't doubt the days ahead will be, well, simply horrendous, for Tim Russert's family. I hope somewhere, at the end of some long tunnel, those who lost someone too early or too young can emerge with an unshakable ability to live for the joy of the present moment. People always flippantly encourage living for the moment, tagging on the implicitly dark reminder that we never know how long we have. Perhaps, thus, one of the greatest achievements in life is finding the ability to soak in every last drop of the present. It is a place I dream of arriving someday.

There isn't much else to say, but today my heart will be heavy for those who love and suffer loss. Alas, it is a sunny and beautiful Saturday here in Madison, and our bikes are ready to take our legs downtown to the Farmer's Market. So I'll leave on this note and try to get in some of my own practice for living in the moment.