I went to funeral services for the wife of a co-worker.

He’s one of my favorite people in the world- and now more so because I have some little understanding of the pain he has.

Today he asked me about this picture, which is on my desk.

I explained to him. He rather quickly excused himself, as he saw that I still have strong emotions about this. I think he feared he would break down as well.

Later, he emailed me. “Great picture. Good memories.”

I responded: “I love those men, and to think of them and others I lost still hurts. After a while, though, I realized that pain was a gift beyond price, that if they had been assholes I wouldn’t even miss them. Now I realize what a wonderful gift I had been given, to have had the opportunity to know and love someone that much”

A little later, his response:

“This helps me. ”

When my turn comes to stand in front of my creator, as he looks through the long, long, long listing of my transgressions, and he arrives at this day, I will point to those words on the page. Maybe Shakespeare himself will stand up and quote “The merchant of Venice:

Portia:
“That light we see is burning in my hall.
How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.”

I’m pretty self aware, I work hard at hammering myself constantly with my failings- to the point where nobody can criticize me worse than I criticize myself, ever, about anything. Sometimes I surprise myself and actually do something nice. I hope it helps.