The week of Thanksgiving is meant to be joyous. It’s a celebratory, anticipatory week that culminates in a big family gathering, filled with gratitude and nostalgia. On November 22, 2022, that’s exactly what I was anticipating. Then, I got a phone call that changed my life forever.
It was my parents. They called to tell me that my older brother, Jason, had been in a helicopter crash off I-77 in Charlotte, NC. As a television meteorologist, Jason was in the air that morning learning the station’s new camera system. It was supposed to be a routine trip, but it turned into my family’s worst nightmare.
Jason and the pilot both passed away in the crash. Instead of a Thanksgiving feast, we ate funeral casseroles around a dining table that had one seat too many. It was the worst week of our lives.
We all grieved differently, but we grieved hard. Jason left behind the love of his life, my sister-in-law Jillian, along with their four teenage children. Nothing made sense, and everything hurt. We were shrouded in darkness, unable to take any next steps.
For our family, it was a Good Friday moment. We’d suffered a terrible loss, but God doesn’t leave us by ourselves in that darkness. He walks alongside us, ever gentle, ever waiting, until Sunday comes.
It didn’t happen in three days. It didn’t happen in three months. It will be three years this Thanksgiving, and we still have difficult days. But God has been working mightily on our hearts and in our lives.
Since losing Jason, I’ve recommitted myself to making faith an integral part of my life. I joined a new church with my wife and two children, where we’re surrounded by families who faithfully guide us in our Christian walk. I’ve also joined several ministry groups and have found meaning through service. One of those is a GriefShare program, which taught me how to navigate the chasms of pain through the hope of Jesus.
I’m grateful God gave me 37 years with my brother, and I cling tightly to the promises in His Word. We serve a risen Savior who intimately knows our pain and makes beauty from ashes. Weeping may endure for the night, but the sun will rise again, and we can find joy in the mourning.
No Comments