Charles N Seabrook (1956 - 2001)

The following was written July 12, 2009 at 8:04 PM This week brought a horrendous story of systemic grave robbing near Chicago, not for any treasures that might be found in the caskets, but for the reselling of the plots themselves. A bizarre episode and image, the details of which might be fitting for the opening of a Stephen King novel…. I had a different cemetery experience this week…a moment of grace that renewed my spirit. First, I need to make a confession: Except for the historical record, I’ve never seen cemeteries as a desirable method for honoring the dead. I will be cremated and my ashes scattered at sea when I die. On Saturday, I visited the gravesite of my best friend of 25 years, Charles Seabrook, in Charleston, SC. Charles died of a heart attack in May of 2001 at the young age of 44. There were as many as 700 people at his funeral. Unfortunately, I was in South Africa at the time and couldn’t be there. Everyone who ever knew Charles was blessed and transformed by his friendship. We met in 1975 when I was 14 and he was 19. He was more of a brother to me over the years than my own brother. If you’d like to see Charles’ smiling face, watch the credits to the movie “Shallow Hal.” Charles died while working on location as a grip. The movie is dedicated to his memory. As I stood at Charles’ grave, I first wondered why I was there. Charles wasn’t. There was his name and the dates he was born and died. A few feet below the surface I knew his skeletal remains lay peacefully, all in a field that otherwise had no particular meaning to either one of us. Charles was not there. He lives on within the lives of those he loved. But I wanted more… So I sat down on the earth and fledgling grass next to his grave. I looked at the live oak ( or was it a pine) that provided a canopy of shade. I watched the small ants scurry around the bronze plaque over the sculpted name and dates: Charles N. Seabrook Loving son, brother, husband, father I sat in silence with my dear friend and talked with him, prayed for his family, and planned the future, as he and I always did when we were together. We hadn’t planned this particular future, but in those moments sitting as close as I physically could to what was no longer Charles, he was as present as ever. I just needed to suspend my sorrow over his absence and embrace his presence, if only for a moment. I needed to be open to God’s grace in order to receive it…and so I opened my heart in that moment and was not disappointed. I found grace in a cemetery. Charles is with me every moment of every day. I will always talk with him because I can. I will visit his grave again someday as I have before. I trust the experience and gift of his love and friendship will be with me always. Amazing grace, Rev. Matt