We are made for kindness

By Joe Rector

Amy and I made plans for travel to a special destination for our 50th anniversary. Those plans melted in tears with the unexpected passing of our son Dallas in September. Since that time, we’ve become the owner of a second mid-sized canine. Harvey, whose name came from the hurricane that struck Texas, has been lost without Dallas, but he’s slowly coming around to become our dog. He is settled and has learned the routines.

As for us, our lives have been a fog; so many loose ends need to be tied up, and we are still missing Dallas. The service for our son was a help in finding an end to all the pain.  What moved me was the kindness of so many people.

Most of the speakers on that day were folks with whom Dallas went to school. Each spoke of my son’s kindness. They said he put others before himself and was always ready to come to their aide should the situations arise.

Our former church family also were in attendance. Friends and adults who were mere children the last time we saw them were there for us. They remembered Dallas as a child and found his death hard to believe.

The members of Beaver Ridge United Methodist Church filled the sanctuary. I attended this church as a child and returned to it when First Christian Church closed its doors. Some of the members at BRUMC I’ve known for years; others are new to me. What I do know is that the love and kindness that they poured out to Dallas was touching. The love and kindness they gave to Amy and me was overwhelming. These people made our grief easier to bear. Some had lost children of their own and knew exactly how much we suffered. Gage Sharp sang and Paula Helton played the piano, and their music helped those in attendance to release the tears, pain, and loss they had held in. One man dedicated a poem to Dallas, and with tears in his eyes, he said that he’d met Dallas as he worked the dish room on Wednesday evenings. He added that Dallas made everyone feel like a friend.

My extended family was present. Jim’s clan sat close to us, and my late brother’s wife and friend sat close by. Most surprising, my nephew Steve and his partner Charlotte made the trip from Atlanta for the service. He and Dallas had met not long ago and had discovered they shared a unique sense of humor. Steve is a professional singer with numerous awards to recognize his talent; Dallas couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. Yet, they stayed in close touch.

Dallas’ high school friends and one of my two best friends (Billy Hayes) were present to remember him. Amy and I learned that he’d reconnected with some of them. Their stories surprised us and left us smiling with the thoughts of how our son had lived his life and loved the people who were in it.

Even friends from his work were there. His bosses showed up, and folks in California, Maine, and other far away states with whom he worked sent sympathies and watched the service on the church website.

Over the months since Dallas passed, Amy and I have rediscovered something. Most people in this world are good folks who are kind. They show their “true selves” in the middle of tragedies. The little piece of God in each human comes to the forefront when the situation demands. Nothing else matters, whether it be political views, sexual orientation, or color of skin. We’re made to be kind and loving. Somehow, life goes on and makes us forget what we were made to be. I’m thankful for the many people who have let the light of something big inside shine on Amy and me. The presence of it reminds us that we know where our son is and with whom he now and forever shall live.