Lament for a Son

Wolterstorff describes his son Eric’s state just before his untimely death. Wolterstorff reviewed Eric’s notes from his graduate school work and saw that Eric had recently completed his research and was poised to begin writing. Wolterstorff also notes that Eric’s friends who had visited Eric a week earlier remarked on Eric’s unprecedented enthusiasm. Eric was eagerly anticipating a climb of the Matterhorn with friends later in the summer, actively preparing himself through running and practice climbs. This portrayal serves to emphasize the shocking contrast between Eric’s vibrant life and his sudden death, underlining the tragedy of a life cut short at its prime.

Wolterstorff then delves into a philosophical exploration of whether the death of a young, healthy person is more difficult to accept than that of someone who has been ill or weakened by disease. He ponders if death seems a more fitting conclusion when it follows a period of decline. The author concludes that each death is unique, possessing its own “inscape”—a term referenced earlier in the book, which he borrows from poet Gerard Manley Hopkins. He asserts that the pain of losing a child does not vary in intensity based on circumstances, but rather differs in quality. To illustrate this point, he compares Eric’s death to that of a friend’s son who committed death by suicide, realizing that both losses carry their own profound and incomparable pain.

The author reflects deeply on societal expectations surrounding gender and grief, questioning the fact that men are expected to be stoic and suppress their tears. He challenges the cultural norm that equates strength with “tearlessness,” asking why men are expected to mask their suffering. Wolterstorff argues that one should allow oneself to cry and show vulnerability, suggesting that enduring while crying requires as much strength as maintaining a dry-eyed facade. He resolves to “look at the world through tears” (26), hoping that this perspective might reveal insights unavailable to those who remain stoic.

Wolterstorff recounts the painful moment in which he informed his family of Eric’s death. He also emphasizes that Christianity and Judaism place a high importance on remembrance. He stresses the significance of not forgetting, of speaking about Eric, and of keeping his memory alive. The author decides to keep Eric’s possessions—his clothes, books, camera, and creations—visible around the house as a way of remembering him, rather than hiding them away to muffle the sorrow. This decision is framed as an act of resistance against amnesia and oblivion, a way of honoring Eric’s life as a gift.

The author contemplates the nature of human existence, noting that to be human is to remember the past and look to the future. He observes that humanity is at its fullest when one can both recollect and plan ahead. Eric’s death is particularly painful because it abruptly cut short all his plans and potential. Wolterstorff describes finding Eric’s list of future plans, now rendered futile. He reflects on how Eric’s death represents “things to do not done—ever to be done” (30), emphasizing the tragedy of unfulfilled potential.

Wolterstorff finds that traditional religious consolations, such as the hope of resurrection, do not ease his immediate grief over Eric’s absence in the present. While he acknowledges the importance of this hope, he emphasizes that it does not fill the void of Eric’s absence in the here and now. The author grapples with the tension between the Christian affirmation of bodily existence and the reality of death, concluding that death remains an enemy, even if it is “overcome” in a larger spiritual context.

He describes the void left by Eric’s death, emphasizing the irreplaceability of each individual and the unique perspective lost with Eric’s passing. Wolterstorff expresses how Eric’s absence has left a hole—a gap in the world that can never be filled. He mourns the loss of Eric’s unique way of apprehending and inhabiting the world, and the questions that will now remain forever unanswered.

The author offers advice on how to comfort those who are grieving, stressing the importance of acknowledging the person’s pain and being present rather than trying to minimize the loss. He advises against saying that the loss isn’t really “so bad,” instead encouraging comforters to recognize the depth of the griever’s pain and to simply be present. Wolterstorff emphasizes the healing power of shared tears and the importance of genuine, ongoing concern.

Wolterstorff recounts his final moments with Eric’s body, touching on the importance of physical contact in both welcoming life and saying goodbye in death. He describes the painful yet necessary act of seeing and touching Eric’s body, emphasizing how this tactile experience helps him fully realize the reality of death. The author draws a parallel between lifting Eric from his cradle as a baby and touching him in his coffin, framing these as acts of greeting and leave-taking.

The author describes the funeral service in detail, noting that he had unknowingly composed the liturgy earlier for a friend with cancer. The service combined expressions of grief with gratitude for Eric’s life and hope in the resurrection. Wolterstorff recounts the use of meaningful symbols, music, and rituals, including the placement of a shroud and lilies on the coffin, the celebration of the Eucharist, and the singing of hymns. Wolterstorff recounts carrying the resurrection candle out of the church, followed by his family and Eric’s coffin. He grapples with the symbolic act of extinguishing the candle, which represents both the pain of finality and the enduring hope of resurrection.