Here I Am

In February a friend of mine died suddenly and unexpectadly in a freak medical accident. 

Just like me, he was 18. Just like me, he planned on studying music in college. We played together in a community youth wind ensemble and we were in the same social group there. 

And then he was gone. 

I remember the funeral vividly. The huge cathedral, the Latin chantings, the overpowering smell of incense, the pews jam-packed with people and even more people standing around the edges because there were far too few seats. And the processional. Always the processional. 

As the family walked in behind the casket, we sang, or rather, whispered and choked out through tears was a favorite hymn of mine called Here I Am, Lord. 

Here I am, Lord. Is it I, Lord? I have heard you calling in the night. I will go, Lord, if you lead me. I will hold your people in my heart. 

It's a gorgeous hymn, but ever since that frigid Friday at the end of February, I have desperately avoided it. And except for it running through my head and making me cry while I'm trying to fall asleep, I have succeeded. 

Until yesterday. 

Yesterday was the two-month anniversary of his death. And at choir rehearsal, we ended up running through that song. 

And I thought my heart was breaking. 

I feel as if I will never be able to sing or hear this song without remembering. Without shedding a tear. 

I, the Lord of sea and sky, I have heard my people cry. All who dwell in dark and sin, my hand will save. I who made the stars of night, I will make their darkness bright. Who will bear my light to them? Whom shall I send?