Joy and Pain

“ Joy and Pain Like sunshine and rain.” The song came to mind this week. Last Saturday, I graduated with my Master’s Degree. It was a triumphant time. My wife told me that when I went across the stage, my son said to her, “That will be me one day.”

One of the reasons I have pursued higher education at this time is to provide an example for him. So hearing that from her was a moment that brought me joy.

We went back to the room, and I took a short nap before we went to lunch to meet with some old friends; then, later, we would see some of my family members who had moved to Arizona.

When I woke up, I checked my phone, and I had a group text message from one of my closest friends from middle school. He said that one of our friends had been found unconscious by his parents and was currently in a coma. Later that day, we heard that he had undiagnosed diabetes plus high blood pressure. This caused the stroke that placed him on life-support.

He wasn’t showing any brain activity, and soon he would be taken off the ventilator. Pain. Just like that. The joy of graduation was now mixed in with the pain of losing a friend that I spent multiple days with in middle school and high school, and we shared a room in a townhouse we all rented in college. He came to my wedding twenty years ago.

Over the years, our visits shrank; I moved to California and would only visit Chicago every so often. I last saw him in August, never thinking that it would be the last time I would see him.

I alternated between the two emotions for the rest of the weekend and into the week. I knew that it was important to allow myself to feel both. It was important to experience the joy of all the con graduations people were giving me. But, in addition to the sorrow as memories of my friend flooded over me, I also thought of the pain and heartbreak that his family was experiencing.

I learned this lesson. My emotions, when fully experienced, can be a teacher. When I experienced the sadness over the loss of my friend, I began to have memories of the times we spent together. There were some funny ones. One in High School, he called me during the Jerry Lewis telethon.

He said to watch the screen, and I watched my name go across it. He had made a donation to MS that I would never pay. He was a jokester and a prankster. When I was a DJ at the college radio station, he would go with me and break into the records room and steal new CDs that the station never knew were missing. I would raid his closet, take his colorful vintage shirts, and wear them when I had musical performances.

On Monday, when I drove to work, I began to think of all the music he introduced me to. For example, The Dead Kennedy’s, Fishbone, The Cure, Jane’s Addiction, The Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Dead Milkmen, and the list goes on and on. So after leaving Starbucks, I pulled up the Dead Milkmen and listened to them on the way to work.

Even though he passed away too soon, I concluded that his life had ended, and his memories allow me to find joy inside the pain.

I guess the lesson or takeaway is this. Emotions have a lot to teach us, and when we allow them to flow through us, they begin to speak to parts of our souls that need them in the moments we are in.

So joy and Pain can exist together. It is tempting for me to feel guilty for feeling joyful about my graduation, knowing that my friend passed away. However, his death doesn’t negate the joy of my accomplishments, nor does my efforts to celebrate it negate the sadness I feel from his passing. Like Sunshine and Rain, Joy and Pain can both come on the same day and on rare occasions simultaneously. Both have a purpose if we allow ourselves to experience them.