• tab Susan's dad's funeral was held on Friday, April 2nd. Good Friday, or however "good" you want to call it. It was ironic, looking at my calender and seeing that there. And it also reminded me how not good it really was.
    tab I got in the car, taking a deep breath as I started the engine. It was a 30 minute drive to go someplace I didn't want to go. A 20 minute drive to see something I never wanted to see. Susan crying. I held her in my arms, just trying to comfort her in the middle of the well fitting rain.
    tab "I'm glad you came."
    tab "I'm so sorry for what happened to you."
    tab "And for my dad..." she whispered, finally releasing me, "right?"
    tab "Yeah," I replied agreeingly. "And for your dad." At that time, I had let go of the umbrella. Together, Susan and I let the rain soak our clothes. And for that one moment as we held eachother, I felt all her pain, all her anxiety, all her loss...It was the worst feeling I had every felt in my life.
    tab And if it was that bad for one second, I wondered, how bad would it be for a lifetime?

    tab The funeral itself was a dreary and gloomy as one would suspect a funeral to be. The rain was pouring down hard now, pelting the ground loudly. It was hard to tell because of that, but I'm sure people were crying, and there was lots of hugging and attempted comforting. I say "attempted", because it looked like the crying continued. The pastor then stepped onto the pulpit, staring down at it as he began loudly,
    tab "Today, we gather here to pay our respects to our dear Brother in Christ, Sam Heartfield, his life stolen from him by a bullet to the head." I glanced over at Susan, and saw her head buried in her arms, trying not to hear, trying not to see.
    tab "We do not know who did it, nor do we need to. Perish all thoughts of revenge, though never forget this tragedy you see today.
    tab "It is Good Friday today, the day when Jesus was nailed and murdered on the cross. When you look around you today, I don't think any one of you sees anything "good" about today.
    tab "But, 2,000 years ago, I'm sure all who witnessed Jesus's crusifixion didn't thing about anything good either. You see, the use of "good" in Good Friday refers to the hope that it soon will be good. The light at the tunnels end. The hope the brightly burns in the darkest of chasms. That is the good we are speaking of." Hadn't I thought that before? Happiness in the midst of sorrow? That was why I pinned up the ketchup stained pocket, rain?
    tab But was it really true? Did all sorrow really end with a happy ending?

    tab It was after the funeral when I heard Susan say the words I last wanted her to say.
    tab "I'm going to find out who murdered my father." I was shocked, stopping directly in my tracks, suddenly getting very cross with her.
    tab "Susan, you don't mean--" She quickly shook her head, and refuted,
    tab "No. I'm not looking for revenge. I just want the truth." I sighed with relief. It was short-lived, though, and I dug my hands into my pockets, and murmured,
    tab "Suan, I know I've said it so many times now, but...I'm sorry."
    tab "I know you are. But you need to know that none of this is your fault." I couldn't tell she was crying until I heard a faint whimper, and suddenly, she grabbed ahold of my shoulders,
    tab "Look at me, Jack! I told you crying wouldn't bring my dad back. But...but I just can't hold back the tears. I can't!" She let go of me, now staring away. I forced a smile, and returned the favor, now holding onto her shoulders.
    tab "It's ok, Susan," I whispered softly. "Cry all you want. You deserve at least that much." Crying in the rain. Like God was crying with us.
    tab Good Friday...Was I really supposed to celebrate it? Was it possible, with all that was going on?