It's been a weird couple of weeks. Within the span of 14 days, we've been aware of the deaths of four men.
Now, I know that lots of people die every day, everywhere. I think it's the fact that we knew, even just a little, three of these men, and knew the fourth man's organization well. While we personally didn't know them deeply, we are close to people who considered them dear, even intimate, friends . Also, they died in terrible ways. Two were murdered and two died in freak accidents. For the record, two of the men died in Kenya, one died here in Tanzania and one died in Zambia.
I keep thinking of their families; the sudden loss and pounding waves of massive grief. I think of the wives and children and the lives turned upside-down. I think of the hearts of service that brought two of these men and their families to Africa in the first place and the particularly troubling thoughts surrounding the questions of how this could be. I think of the other two men and the fact that, while they weren't vocationally in a role of "serving", they were good men who cared a great deal for Africa and her future.
So, yea, each death has brought layers of loss and pain to our hearts. I can only imagine what those who were really close to them are going through.
Death is not new. It's ancient, like life. But does that make it any easier?