A Candid Confession

I'm sitting here on the floor of my bedroom, laptop resting comfortably on my legs, while my brain dances and bends with a million different thoughts... all while a few tears escape the boundaries of my eyes and graze the sides of my cheeks. I feel so anxious and heavy-hearted that I can barely stand it. My heart is burdened with the realization of what is about to take place tomorrow...
Apart from two exams and 3 hours of lecture that I know will both require a vigiourous amount of writing, thinking, and recalling, tomorrow is the day I say my final goodbye to my late friend, Les. My day will go something like this: 2 tests, 3 hours of precise note-demanding lecture, a funeral, and then heading to my sister's house to help her with wedding planning and projects (her wedding of course, not mine). The fact that my friend's funeral is going to be thrown into the mix of several every-day, routine & light-hearted tasks is almost enough to make me sick to my stomach. How can a day be expected to carry on so simply while a person so dear has left the face of this earth forever? Of course with him being my friend I am more impacted by his death than people who didn't know him, but somehow I feel like I'm dishonoring him by simply going throughout my day before & after his funeral.
I've been grieving his death since the moment I heard the news. It was 10:15 a.m., I was sitting in my second & final class for the day when I received the text that Les had been in a motorcycle wreck on his way to teach at the Police Academy. An SUV pulled infront of him, apparently unaware that he was there, and they crashed...Les was talking on the way to the ER and everything...then simply died after they got there. When I read the text my body felt like it had been filled with lead. My professor also knew Les through when he taught him decades ago, and as I was sharing the news with him I couldn't keep the tears from streaming down my face. Each one that fell felt as if a piece of my heart was pierced with it. Everything within me wanted to scream that it couldn't be true, that there was no way that Les was gone forever...but he was.
I had just seen Les 4 days before. He came into Napolis to eat with his bestfriend of 32 years, Brian. I was the waitress that always served them, who they lovingly called "Princess", and who always made sure to bring cupcakes with when I went up to visit them at the Police Academy between the classes they taught. They both adopted me and I adopted them. They were my special buddies. Regardless of the day I was having, anytime Les & Brian decided to come see me, my world would get ten times better, everything suddenly seemed in proportion again, and I would laugh with them until I was out of breath. Very few people knew how to take the two; they had a chemistry that could only come after 32 years of brotherly friendship, and a comfort with quite vocally jokingly [although quite convincingly] fighting with each other that came along with it. But I did, and that was one of the things that made me love them so much.

Perhaps after writing this post and having a chance to put my thoughts down on paper (internet blog-paper aleast lol), things will make more sense in my head...but honestly, up until now things haven't. My whole life I've been taught that everything happens according to God's perfect plan, to trust in His perfect Will, and to accept His perfect Will because everything happens for a reason. In my heart of hearts, I know that there has to be a reason behind Les' death, that there has to be something beautiful that comes from it that wouldn't have otherwise. At this point the only thing I've come up with is that he was (I know for sure) an organ donor, so from his death a few people have an opportunity to live. And right now, I'm okay with stopping at that rationalization. This is difficult to admit, and followed with a sense of guilt, but I feel as if I don't have the faith to try to rationalize it anymore .
I wish I could say I was a super-faith Christian that was totally at peace with the fact that Les is gone forever, but to say that wouldn't actually represent what I'm feeling. I found out the other day that Les was involved in Church and ministry and from what I know, a Christian. So that does give me a little bit more peace to know that if he was indeed a Christian, he's now in a place of no more potential pain or suffering. But then I'm hit with the over-whelming questions of "Well, what was so bad here that he had to leave?", "He was such an amazing man who impacted so many people through educating multiple generations of Police officers, why would God choose to allow that to be cut short?" "Why would God allow Les to be taken from his wife, sons, daughter, and his bestfriend Brian?" Why, why, why? None of it makes sense, and honestly, I've stopped trying to make it make sense. Instead I'm being honest about my feelings and candidly confessing the fact that no, I'm not okay with his death, I'm not happy to try to understand the plan in this, and I am indeed having a difficult time mustering up the Faith to simply accept this.