A Catastrophic Mistake

Over the weekend, we got the news that a child of an NVHC friend, a 21 year old college junior, had died after taking a drug called molly.  He was at an electronic music concert in Miami and he made a fatal miscalculation. 

This young man was the oldest of three, had a remarkably outsized personality, and has been described repeatedly as "larger than life." He was well known in all of his worlds -- at synagogue, at camp, at college.  It is a huge shock.

His family has been part of the temple community for many years, and had been especially good friends with Rob and Irena and their families. Rob and Irena are  our former clergy who have both moved on to other congregations.  They both came to be with their Virginia congregational family and they both looked wiped out. I don't ever remember seeing Irena cry before, but perhaps that is because in the past she was the presiding clergy person who was not meant to add to the level of anxiety, but instead be a calm presence. Today she was one of us.

Today when we arrived at the synagogue, the parking lots were almost full.  There has not been a funeral of this magnitude since the last NVHC child died suddenly and tragically after getting hit by a car on the side of the road.  This death was the same in its suddenness and its senselessness. 

There was a line of people waiting to get in, and Beryl was heroically bringing hand carts full of chairs into the Social Hall.  When the rabbi saw what was going on, he rounded up a whole row of young men to bring every chair from the other parts of the building.  Eventually we all settled in, knowing that we dreaded the next hour.

It was heartbreaking to see so many people's lived changed so suddenly. He has grandparents and cousins and siblings and parents and hundreds of people who love him.  I am on the outer edges of his orbit, but his mother is part of my social world, in a knitting circle way.

The eulogies were powerful and honest -- but as the rabbi said, restricted to some amount of dignified content.  Rob spoke as a friend of the family and not as a rabbi, so he allowed himself more anger and sorrow than he would have as the clergy in charge.  Close friends spoke, eloquently, beautifully.  We got a very full picture of Adam's impact on his world --  complicated, passionate, loud, a leader, quirky, loving, a huge smile, spontaneous, hard working, and not yet a grown-up.  Our rabbi gracefully synthesized hours of conversations he had shared with friends and family. Everyone said that Adam would have loved this much attention, but it was a mournful joke. One thing that our rabbi said that I really appreciated: just because Adam's light burned really brightly for all of his years, that does not have anything to do with this early and sudden end. There is no relationship. There is no cause and effect. He said it better than that. He also quoted Bob Dylan's song "May you be forever young" which did seem amazingly appropriate.

This was a fluke.  Accidents happen.  People make bad choices.  There is no making sense of this.  Most of the time, most of us escape disaster.  There is no fairness.  Losing this child is a huge loss, and it will take a very long time for his family to get through the grief.  We have all experienced this, in one way or another, and there are no shortcuts.  It just takes a lot of time and talking and living to get away from the stabbing surprising pain every time you think of the person.

One other backstory:  Adam's father has not been interested in being part of temple life, although his wife and children are active and busy members.  It is this exact moment, this terrible horrible moment, that shows the meaning and purpose of belonging.  We all know how to help, and we know what to do and we have rituals that can guide the mourners who are in too much pain and disarray to make decisions.  I am glad they could just say they needed help, and help was ready. I am sure that Adam's father will have a different relationship with the idea of belonging.

So much intense sorrow.  He will be remembered and people will smile when they think of him.  When you start out larger than life, your legend can only grow.