Last week was a sad and instructive week for me. I attended two funerals, and learned of a third. The first was for a young father and former Marine. He was the husband of a student of mine who tragically left a widow and two beautiful daughters behind. The second death involved a former basketball player of mine going back forty years. He was a fine husband and father, and his service included testimonials from many family members and friends who spoke in tears of his value and service to them.
But the point of this missive had to do with another sad occurrence that I learned about from a friend of mine who we will call Jake. While my wife and I were attending a social event, Jake emotionally shared the news about the death of a 44 year old son of a dear friend of his. Jake explained that his friend had just called him. His friend tearfully elaborated that he and his son had been estranged for many years and had only recently begun to re-build their relationship.
Any of us can easily imagine how this father must feel. I do not know either the father or his son, but I understand how guilt must be blending with sadness. Certainly I am unaware of the details that led to the rift between father and son. But I also can guarantee that neither man, deceased or surviving, felt good about the situation that had developed over their years. Each man surely wished that the relationship could have returned to earlier, happier, times. The surviving father is facing a struggle with hurt and self-doubt.
The title of this week’s newsletter is a turn on the old cliché “mending fences.” No one leads a perfect life. There are “missing slats” on the fence of all of our lives. The friends and family members of the three men I described before face their loss with either regret or contentment. Those facing regret will view a “fence” riddled with “missing slats.” Those who had maintained (or re-claimed) a good connection with their lost loved one will be able to cope with their loss more positively.
I suspect that my readers, at this point, are ahead of my inept fingers as I type this letter. Our collective homework over the next days and weeks is to fill one of the gaps in our fence. Who have we lost who is still here? What can we do about it? In an earlier newsletter entitled “Two Pots” I discussed the importance of recognizing the difference between situations we can influence versus events that we cannot change. In this context, we can’t control whether our old friend or family member calls us or not. But we can call them. We can initiate reconciliation. Whatever the outcome, we will feel better about the effort.
What are the names written on those missing slats in your fence?
And, what are you going to do about it?