The Complexities of Death

Death is a complex thing, and it brings about complex emotions. Let me tell you a story. When i was about eight or so, a new family moved into our neighborhood. In primary that Sunday, a father wheeled his son to the front of the room. "This is Kyle," he said. Kyle wasn't able to walk, talk, or doing to kept himself alive. He relied fully on the merits of his family. He was our age, and therefore, he would be coming to our sunday school class.
Kyle's dad, Brother Nichols, invited our class to come up to the front to touch him and his wheel chair. That is the moment when we all fell in love with him. Over the years there would be countless fights on who got to push Kyle in his wheel chair, who got to sit next him in class, who got to clean up his spit, and who got to put his breathing tube back in when it came out. We all loved him, and we could feel the strong spirit that lived inside of that body. Many said that his brave and devoted spirit was the reason that he came in that body. He was a such a great spirit of Heavenly Father's that having the challenges of that body was the only trial of his. It was clear that he had touched us deeply.
When we were about sixteen he's condition worsened, and his parents stopped bringing him to sunday school. He went to the high school through the special education program, and so we got to him regularly through school, until we all graduated.
Anyway, he died two days ago. When i first heard of his death, i only felt happiness for him. Now he can walk, he can talk, he can do everything that he couldn't do down here on earth. And his family will be able to do his temple work for him, so he will officially be a member of this church. Whenever he was mentioned, i only felt joy for him.
However, today was his viewing, and his family had set up pictures of him growing up and pictures of him and his family. People told stories of how his siblings took care of and loved him. Then, before we went in to see Kyle's body, there was a picture of Kyle drawn by Roger Cushing. It was supposed to be of Kyle as a physically normal, healthy, nineteen year old boy. And he was so beautiful. Then we went to see Kyle, and i kept trying to picture how he looked in that portrait. Kyle was there. He was there. We all could feel him. Suddenly, i wanted nothing more than to just cry. I was sad that this wonderful person left his family. I know they will be reunited again someday, but for this brief period of time, his family has to suffer his absence.
It's amazing how in the same instance, a person can feel two completely opposite and conflicting emotions.
I came home and was pondering on these things. I kept thinking that i should still be happy for him. Why was i crying?
I turned to the book, True to the Faith, and found something really quite eye opening.
On page 45 it says, "In fact, mourning is one of the deepest expressions of love. The Lord said, 'Thou shalt live together in love, insomuch that thou shalt weep for the loss of them that die.' (D&C 42:45)"
Then it goes on to say, "The only way to take sorrow out of death is to take love out of life."
Mourning is the deepest expression of love. I'm still happy for Kyle, but to not mourn his loss would mean that i do not love him. For his family to not mourn his loss would mean they do not love him. So, it's ok. It's ok to feel joy, but it is also ok to feel sad. It's so simple and i had read it before, but i must have forgotten.
It's the same with our Heavenly Father. For him to not mourn over us would mean that He does not love us. For our parents to not mourn over us would mean they do not love us. For friends to not mourn over us would mean they do not love us. And while love is celebrating the joy as well, it also means mourning with and for those that mourn.
Oh, how complex death is. Oh, how complex love is. Oh, how complex life is. Yet, at the same time, it is all very simple. Sometimes the simplicity is just out of reach...