I woke up this morning with a clear memory of my departed brother's face in my mind. He was smiling. I was so thankful for it because even seeing a picture isn't the same as a clear picture in your mind. So I woke up thankful. And that's a nice way to wake up.

It's an odd thing about losing a loved on. When they pass away, it's not just that you can't imagine them not being in this world; it's that you can't understand the world going on without them. I remember when my brother passed away, I walked outside the hospice and was surprised to see cars zooming by and even clouds moving. You can't quite believe everything and everyone is acting like the most important thing in the world didn't just happen. And there's a part of you that can't quite forgive the world for turning.

The hard part is seeing the world not take notice while believing that not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without the Father knowing it. That is the disconnect Christians have with the world. We're called to take part in it but not be of it. But Christians are good at accepting mysteries. It's not without pain but we understand it comes with the territory.

Sometimes when we're in pain we just put a face on and just keep going. Sometimes we pretend so well that we forget we're pretending. Maybe it makes it easier. It's a funny thing. We're all out there pretending like the most important things in the world didn't happen to us. We're all acting like our hearts haven't been broken, or that we're not afraid of losing our job, or we know exactly how we're going to pay for our children's' college. We're all acting like it's all ok. But it's not. I pray that we'd all be not so good at pretending. We should admit sometimes that our worlds have fallen apart and looks to be doing so even now. And we're quite frankly not all that pleased about it. Maybe sometimes we even need to ask for help picking up all the pieces.

That's another funny thing. Why is it so much easier to give help than to receive it? A wonderfully holy priest I met recently spoke of his father who had to nurse his wife for many years after she'd gotten into a car accident. Someone once praised his father for his dutifulness in caring for his wife. But his father responded by saying he had the easy part. He simply had to help. She had the harder part in letting him help her.

There's a lot of truth in that.

Maybe part of being Christian is not just offering help to the hungry and the suffering but admitting sometimes that we are the hungry and suffering. It's ironic in that sometimes the more we're broken, the less likely we are to ask for help in picking up the pieces.

I know when people ask me how I'm doing I answer "fine." It's an unthinking response. I don't want to burden you with my burdens. That sometimes can be a false kindness to the world because it precludes other people's opportunity to show kindness to you. Part of truly loving is offering other people an opportunity to serve and love.

I remember one time my car broke down on the highway and I was walking to a gas station. A truck pulled over and asked if I needed a lift. He said "How ya' doin?"

I said "fine." I wasn't fine at all. I was walking down the side of a highway. He asked me if I needed help and I said, "I got it." He smiled, shook his head, and finally said, "Let a man help his fellow man." I  noticed a big cross hanging from his rearview. He took me to the gas station and even used his own gas can. When he was done filling up my tank he thanked me. Sometimes, maybe the kindest thing we can do is allow others to help. Maybe the kindest thing to do is tell others we're not fine.

Let's be honest. Let's stop seeming all Facebooky and just showing the good parts of our life. I'll be honest. Today I woke up grateful for having a clear picture of my smiling brother in my mind. But I'm missing him terribly.