A young death

My young nephew, not quite 40, died suddenly this week. It was a shock and yet not completely unexpected, given the complicated state of his mental and physical health. He was struck down savagely by bipolar disease at the age of 18, a blow that was followed by some of the predictable physical catastrophes that strike people given to passing out in snowdrifts, as well as bolts from the blue like cancer. At his memorial service this Saturday in Philadelphia, I will read (or have someone read for me) this elegy:

I have an affectionate but long-distance perspective to offer on our departed loved one, Luke.

He would call or text occasionally, to offer a cheerful greeting or update, or sometimes to ask very simply and directly for help. I was never present for the crisis times and can only imagine how devastating they were. The picture his life presented to me was of a young man whose life was upended by illness, and who tried diligently for 20 years to build a nest in a hurricane. He never gave up his search for a loving home and meaningful work, and what more does any of us ever want?

God rest you, my young nephew: your illness and trouble are over now.