“There’s a grief that can’t be spoken

There’s a pain goes on and on

Empty chairs at empty tables

Now my friends are dead and gone.

Oh my friends, my friends, forgive me

That I live and you are gone.

There’s a grief that can’t be spoken

There’s a pain goes on and on.”

Friends have left and friends are leaving.

Why, oh why, am I so sad?

For five years, a good friend sat at my side as counselor to me, his bishop. Years later he came out. No friends he could count on. Now, he’s gone.

My close siblings with gay children. November came. Now, they’re gone.

Ten years ago, a leader’s baptismal talk touched me. Passionate, poignant, & perceptive. I still remember what he had to say. Recently, hidden facts of history came out. Now, he’s out. His wife and he are gone.

Twenty-five years ago, I was bishop. A single man, returned missionary, came in to say he was gay. My clueless counsel was to “keep coming”. My clueless action was to take none. Every Sunday, I watched for him. Any Sunday I saw him, my heart melted with joy and relief. He’s still here! For twenty-five years he managed to stay. November came. Now, he’s gone.

A former bishop & his wife, members most of their life. Hidden facts of history came out. Now, they’re out.

This weekend I saw an old friend from 20 years ago. History came out, her husband’s out. Out of the church, not the family. She stays for her kids. But, for how long? I’m concerned that like her husband, she’ll soon be gone. Nowhere, nowhere, nowhere for her to discuss, and for that she longs.

Several more examples, I could give, of friends and family who have left. And, left in just the past 2 years, many since November’s veer.

Why does it sadden me?

That they have chosen a lesser path? No, I don’t believe that. If there is a heaven to get to, that’s exactly where my friends who have gone will go. I wish them joy & godspeed on the road they have chosen. This is a happy thought for me.

But, tears well up. I miss the days when they were reliably in neighboring chairs and tables. Chairs of instruction. Tables of counsel. Chairs of service. Tables of camaraderie, community, & cordiality. Now, empty chairs at empty tables. My friends are gone.

Perhaps, I’m sad from seeing little done to help my friends stay. Questions and doubts must be halted and hidden. “A grief that can’t be spoken.” Or worse, a grief dismissed as if merely token. That is, if they muster the courage to be outspoken.

It’s definitely sad, that one’s orientation is better undisclosed. Love spoken for those closeted unknowns, is proscribed from our expression. After all, in the church none are homosexual. Another “grief that can’t be spoken.”

It makes me sad that I can’t do more to ease the emptying of chairs at tables.

In reality, I am THE only part of the puzzle that I can direct and control. My sadness is causing me to drastically reform my thoughts and actions. Stand silently on the sidelines?…..No Longer! I’m going to stand up for what I have been taught is right, all my life. What I believe in my heart, is right and just and fair.

I’m willing to discuss, to empathize, to understand, to reach out. I’m willing to follow Jesus and love unconditionally. At least, attempt to love in His way. More of my friends are going to leave. That’s OK. But, I want them to know that neither one of us has abandoned the other. We are still friends. Probably, better friends for having supported each other, wholeheartedly, in our respective journeys.

Oh my friends, my friends, forgive me

That I STAY and you are gone.

There’s a grief that can’t be spoken

There’s a pain goes on and on.