Requiem

I've been struggling all week with Grant's death. It was such a blow on Saturday- so shocking and sudden that I found myself wanting to argue with the friend who gave me the news. "But I just talked to him on Thursday!" I wanted to yell, how can you possibly be telling me he's dead? I kept asking if we were sure, like maybe we'd get the news that it was all a misunderstanding- a flurry of texts and emails gone wrong.

Monday was harder. By then I believed it had happened- there was an AP report, an Above the Law post, and heartbreaking messages from friends and family on his facebook page (including a mention of how much he would have rolled his eyes at the thought of a facebook memorial, which is absolutely true, though we also know he would have been generous enough to understand that the messages are more for us than for him). And yet I'd find myself looking for his daily quip in the gchat list to the right of my gmail inbox. And it would be a fresh blow to remember that I wouldn't see them again.

This is the first loss where the pain I feel is my own. I've watched friends lose a parent, or a family friend lose a spouse, and it was devastating to witness. I ached for them and their families, but my tears weren't for me - the deceased hadn't been a part of my daily life. And while it takes my breath away to think of Grant's parents and brother getting that terrible phone call on Saturday afternoon, this time, my sense of loss is personal. And it just came from nowhere. He had just turned 29. He'd been working incredibly long hours and headed out for a weekend of snowmobiling in the country with colleagues to celebrate a recent filing. He hit a tree and died on the scene. He had so much to offer and he could have done so much more. He was so smart, so delightfully witty and sarcastic, and so kind and concerned for others.

We received an email from the dean of the law school with the details of Grant's memorial and the address of his parents. I'd never met them, but had to tell them something about the fantastic person they raised. I had no idea what to write, but tried anyway, hoping that at least another card to add to the pile I'm sure they'll get will let them know how much their son was loved and admired by those he knew. And I continued to struggle with forgetting the news as I went about my busy days only to remember suddenly at a stop sign with tears pricking my eyes or my voice breaking while I sang a song to Landon.

Then on Thursday a blog reader sent me this article by an attorney, Ann Nichols, who caters on the side, and happens to be catering Grant's funeral reception. I broke down while reading, but it's a beautifully written essay and the first thing I'd read about him that made me feel a measure of comfort rather than simply raw loss. It felt good to know that someone so thoughtful and eloquent was working behind the scenes to honor Grant. It felt even better to get a glimpse of his mother and know absolutely that sending them a card filled with my favorite things about Grant was the right thing to do. I'm glad to know that the "motley assortment of food" at his reception is truly a reflection of him- hummus, trail mix, carrot cake, and all.

His funeral just began and my heart and thoughts are with my classmates who caravaned to Michigan to attend. Rest in peace, Grant.