Experiencing Loss...at Age 31.

Charis Corner: Stories of Grace in a Broken World

By Kari Mahara

When you're 31, life takes a new turn. I feel alive and excited for the blessings I have--a roof over my head, a steady job, real relationships with people I can trust (so less drama). The last thing I expected to experience is loss. Death. Of another person in their 30s. A friend. I thought…even started writing another post about how God’s been revealing more renewing that needs to occur within me. But then I experienced another death today…a former coworker. It’s heartbreaking. So sudden and unexpected.

My former coworker, D.J., was an incredible guy. Fantastic teacher and friend. In fact, when I first met him, I thought he was so cool. Too cool to want to be friends with me (I have issues with "popular" people). I was so wrong. And I'm thankful I was. At IOB (Imagine on Broadway), we were a family, and when someone messes with our family, we rise together against it. That's why losing one of us is so heartbreaking. There's no threat to neutralize. We're left feeling helpless and full of sorrow--for us but even more for his family. I'm clearly still working through my grieving process. 

The first weekend in January, I wrestled with the loss of a friend of mine (and a close friend of my husband's). Rudy performed the service (his first funeral) as the request of Dan’s parents. Dan was a friendly and accepting guy. One of the first times I met him was at a CR (Celebrate Recovery) dinner.

I shuffle in with a stroller carrying my twin 2-year-olds and a 4-year-old at my elbow. I scan the room for an empty table, where we won't bother anyone. But Dan waves us over to his table, calling out to my husband to join him. My face turns red I'm sure, but I sit down and avoid eye contact. Dan immediately engages me in conversation, asking about the twins and sharing stories my husband has shared with him. I am amazed how wonderful this guy is. It's not everyday my crazy family/life is accepted and welcomed (I mean when they ate that night, they made a mess). Dan didn't care. Every Monday night after, I looked forward to shaking his hand and getting a sympathetic smile from him.

And now...I won't. I didn't know Dan well. I wasn't nearly as close to him as my husband was. But I still miss Dan. I still have moments where I fight tears. 

And now…I’m coping with losing a wonderful educator and friend. D.J. Honeick entered the hospital this morning with flu symptoms and passed away during treatment. The man who played basketball with me against Imagine Master Academy (or the Boys and Girls Club), who cheered me on, high-fived me when I played way better than I did in practice, and whose irresistible personality won the trust of parents, educators, and administrators.

Loss...death...in your 30s is hard. You think you finally have the life thing figured out—family, career, bills, and other responsibilities--and then you fly into a brick wall. It hurts (it breaks your nose or your heart), but you eventually begin the healing process and vow to keep a better eye out.

What I'm left with now is a reminder of first and fifth impressions. Dan's first impression stayed with me. He cut through my issues and accepted me as I am. And D.J. taught me not to trust my past assumptions. People will surprise me. That's what I'm taking away from their lives. I want to be that way. I want to love and accept people beyond their issues. Life is hard. It hurts. But I want to be a star in a dark sky and bring light to the hurting and lost. Maybe even a smile to someone who's having a rough time.

Loss is hard at any age. But it’s a perfect opportunity to shine in the darkness.

2 Corinthians 4:6: “For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.”