A coworker of mine died earlier this week. I didn't know him in a way beyond that "friendly helpful coworker" way, but he was a great guy. There wasn't a question in mind about whether or not to attend his service. So, yesterday afternoon, I - and probably 150 of my coworkers - did just that.
I went with a group of girlfriends from work. We were among some of the first people to get there. The front row on the left was where his small family sat; it consisted of his mother, her husband, and his sister and the sister's family. My coworker hadn't had a family of his own. The rest of the room was empty save a few rows with people I recognized from work. As we sat waiting for the service to begin, I watched people trickle into the room. A few moments before the service started, I remarked to a friend that I thought everyone there (so far) was from work...except his family, the 6 of them sitting together on one side of the front row.
When it was time to begin, the reverend doing the service stopped and asked the family to do something he said he didn't usually do. He asked them to stand up, turn around and look at how many people were in the room. He commented that he knew they'd been unsure of how many people to expect. As they looked (and we all cried), so did I. The room was absolutely full. There were people standing in the back, and they'd opened up that side room usually reserved for family to incoming guests. The place was packed. And yes, as we looked around the room, it was true: everyone, everyone was someone who had known the deceased from work. Now there were plenty of folks who no longer worked at our company; there were some who'd come from other locations, a six hour drive away, and some who hadn't worked there in close to a decade. But they all were here to honor this man.
I admit that my heart was saddened by the thought that everyone there was from work. I'd said of my coworker friend that I didn't know much about his life outside of work. He loved his sister; I knew that. And he was close to her daughters. I knew that too. But that was really about it. I told a friend I'd come with, "You know, I love you guys, but if the only people who showed up to my funeral were from work, I think that would be really sad." And in the moment, I meant it.
Now, in my own personal life, that would be really sad...because I spend a lot of time with folks I know from outside of work. But later, I realized, maybe he just lived his life differently than I live mine. Neither better than the other, just different. By the end of the service, after listening to story after story of our friend's kindness and always-willing positive attitude (he really was one of those guys; he always was friendly and smiling), I realized something else. He was investing in the people we work with... and not just a few of us. All of us. I told my boyfriend later, "I doubt that many people from work would come to my funeral if I died today." There isn't self-pity or self-condemnation in that revelation for me. There is, however, an admonition and a lesson. And, yes, maybe even some inspiration.
There were a number of people who've remarked this week that our friend at work didn't just breeze by, smile and say hi. He stopped. He asked how you were, and - most revolutionary of all - he listened. I admit...while I'm very friendly at work, and always smile and say hi, there aren't very many people with whom I really take the time to stop, to ask, to engage and to listen. My fleshly human self wants to make excuses for this right away: "that's just not my personality," and the oh-so-tired "I'm too busy for that during the work day." Those are just excuses, justifications for not putting the investment of myself into those around whom I spend a great number of hours each week.
You know, I don't know if my friend was a believer or not. His service was performed by a reverend, and the music was gospel music. And the end, we prayed together the Lord's prayer. But his own personal faith wasn't discussed. What was discussed in abundance, however, was his heart. And regardless of his motivation or inspiration, I know there is something there for me to learn. Jesus didn't show up in our lives to breeze by, smile and politely say good morning. He was and is 100% committed to ever fiber of our beings as we live through our days. My coworker friend's life may not have extended into hundreds of places beyond the walls of our office...but his heart extended far into the lives of the hundreds of people in our building. And that, I've seen, means something very important. That, I think, gives a lesson of its own. I'm grateful that, even in his passing, I have been able to learn more about this man, and learn from his example. I haven't been left untouched by him; I pray that, as I take to heart these lessons, a coworker will have the same to say about me someday.
God bless. And be blessed so you can be a blessing. That's really what it's all about.
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