He was one of us.

That’s all I keep thinking.

One of us. Like flesh and blood, really. One of my own family. Koinonia, I guess you call it. Lives intertwined so significantly.

Hustle and bustle. Cook and clean, and cook again. Smile and give hugs and try to hear the Lord for weeping, hurting peers.

But it’s quiet now. They’ve all gone off to prepare for the beginning of final farewells. I’m alone, and am suddenly so sad. So overwhelmed by how it hurts.

He was one of us.

Man, it hurts.