Changing Tides

Yesterday was such a weird day.  I woke up in a blah mood (mostly because of the weather), but nothing out of the ordinary.

We covered the domestic violence chapter in our Assessment class yesterday, and as I was listening, I kept remembering my own experiences with the ER on 8/14/05 and hoping and praying that I would be a more compassionate, more understanding, less judgmental nurse than that one I was (un)fortunate enough to have that night.  During class, I wasn't really upset, just very adamant that my classmates understood that domestic violence absolutely knows no boundaries.  There is a stereotype (thanks, Jerry Springer) that is portrayed in the media, and that stereotype is a death sentence if we as a society can't get past it. There is no one "type" of person that is a victim of domestic violence.  It could be an isolated incident, like mine, or it could be an ongoing pattern, but to have a specific picture in your head of what a victim looks like is dangerous, especially for someone who works in the health care industry. 

So, Joe's funeral was today.  It was bittersweet in a lot of ways.  He's been in a lot of pain, and he's suffered so much that I know that he's in a better place now.  But it's still hard, because so many of my memories from high school have him in it.  At the service, this girl got up before the cerermony and played a song on her flute.  It nearly broke me to hear it, b/c anyone who was a part of the flute section at Fairhope knew that song by heart, as it was the All-State music, as well as the song that Joe played over and over and over again.  They also played music from Five Iron Frenzy, his favorite band.  And to be quite honest, to quote his pastor, I don't know of anyone else who could be buried in his Batman t-shirt and still make it look cool. 
Joe touched so many lives, and he was only 21 years old.  He never failed to make me laugh, to be there when I needed someone, to be a shoulder to cry on.  For someone so young, he was far wiser than his years.  Even in the face of surgery after surgery, pain after pain, he still kept smiling.  I am a better person for having known Joe. 
And at the wake, Laura and I joked that, once again, this was Joe's unique way of doing things.  He loved his friends and family, and didn't want to wait until our 10 year reunion.  So, in true Joe style, he brought everyone together one last time.  It was like a FHS  reunion, Joe Waldrop style. 
Joe, you were an inspiration to all who knew you.  Your faith in Jesus and your love of all things beautiful touched everyone around you.  You will be missed.