The Circle Never Diminishes

"When bad things happen, good people have to take what they've learned and make the world a better place, and that is precisely what I hope this film will do--make the world a better place." -Kurt Kuenne, November 2006

I want to tell you all about a film I saw a couple of weeks ago, a film that I can't get out of my head.

It's called "Dear Zachary." Released in 2008, it is a documentary made by Kurt Kuenne which tells the story of his best friend Andrew Bagby, a dynamic young doctor who was brutally murdered by his ex-girlfriend. When they find out that his accused murderer--who had fled back to Canada to avoid being arrested--is pregnant with Andrew's son, Kurt decides to make his film a letter to Zachary about his dad. So that he could know what an amazing man his father had been.

I don't want to say more about the contents of the film, or about how the Bagbys' story continues. I watched it based only on the Netflix blurb, and because I thought I recognized the movie poster. I was totally unprepared for the raw, searing emotion of the film: the righteous anger, the blazing, transcendent love, the joy and humor and deep, deep grief.
It's best to watch it without much warning.

I think you should watch it. Yeah, you. I really really think you should watch it.

It's an understatement to say I was distraught by the tragedy of the story--I wept like I haven't wept since my dad first died. "Dear Zachary" is both harrowing and heartbreaking. But to say I was moved is also a complete understatement. I feel honored to even know about Andrew Bagby. I feel lucky just to know that tremendous people like his parents exist. I feel like my life has been enriched by even this peripheral connection to his life and his family and the incredible love that shines through this film.

Afterwards, I tried to understand why I was so glad to have seen "Dear Zachary," a movie that was difficult to watch because of my own, echoing grief. It's hard for me to articulate it. I guess it's partly because being with people who also know grief is just easier. You don't have to pretend anything; you don't have to explain yourself. I recognized the truth of their loss and their love. It resonated in me.

And I also loved it because "Dear Zachary" was such an incredible memorial to this man. Anyone who sees this film can feel like they know him. He won't be forgotten. His goodness won't fade away. Even a murderer cannot diminish his legacy or his memory.

No one will ever make a brilliant documentary about my dad. No one will write a biography of him. (No, I probably won't. I don't want comments on Facebook about how I "should write a book.") We don't have hours of footage. We hardly have photos of him either, since he was always behind the camera! We will forget the sound of his voice. Yet we can still tell stories about him, we can share memories and live out the things he taught us. We can love as he loved, we can give as he gave. These things help him to live on--even after death.

This reminds me of the time I spent with my dear friend Amy, right after her dad died. I sat with her family around the kitchen table for hours that day, listening to story after beautiful story about a man I'd never met. You might think it would have been awkward, or odd, or even boring, for me to talk about someone I didn't know. But it wasn't--in a profound way. I felt honored even to know about him, to be a witness to the shimmering, abiding love of his family. I learned of a quiet man, a kind man. A man who dedicated his medical practice to those who needed him the most, the lost causes, the hopeless. Though I wasn't lucky enough to meet him in life, I know I have been impacted by him: through my friend and through her family.

When I write about my dad, when I tell a story about him, when I listen to a story about Paul Bither, when I think, "Wow, what an incredible man he must have been," when I see the pain and love in the eyes of Andrew Bagby's parents, I think: we are spreading the goodness. We are sharing the inspiration--it's like that movie, "Pay It Forward." Our love, our tears, and our laughter are shining testimonies to these lost ones' impact on our lives. Sharing memories and living after their example only spread it further.

The circle of those impacted by our dearly departed never diminishes. The circle never diminishes. It only grows, like ripples on a pond, spreading out beyond the edges of sight.