A 19-Year-Old Confronts Death

Just before I was 19 years old, I started to develop a strong desire to serve a mission for the LDS Church. Having been raised in the Church, I had developed a testimony of the gospel and had numerous witnesses of my own to know that this was something Heavenly Father wanted me to do.

In preparing for my mission, I took a job with Kent Hope, a local home builder and also a member in my local church congregation. Kent was a God-fearing man with a humble personality. I distinctly remember him kissing his wife goodbye every morning before heading off to work. Kent seemed to never get upset or frustrated at anything; he would constantly run out of supplies, need to rework areas, or get injured with the hammer or another tool, but he always just continued his pleasant demeanor, never swearing or raising his voice. Often, he would whistle or hum a tune as he faced his problems, usually a hymn. I remember being so frustrated with my inability to hit the nail with the hammer, and my slow speed with the work. I would compare myself to Kent, who was twice as fast as I was with the hammer and rarely mashed a finger, something that was a regular occurrence for me. I marveled at how well he kept his composure!

During those work days, we would take a lunch break. I got in the habit of reading some church materials or scriptures at lunch. One day I was reading the *Church News*, and I read an article with a headline that read, “Entire Family Killed in Car Accident.” I glanced through the article and was surprised to read that the family that had been killed was the family of Julie Virchow, one of my college classmates.

Julie was one the most beautiful girls I had met while at my first year of college. She sat right behind me in the “showcase chorale.” Often, in play, I would kiss her hand, call her a princess, and fall to my knees as if in the presence of royalty. She was beautiful, outgoing, and talented. During the school year, she was nominated as “Homecoming Queen” for the college. At one of the biggest football matches of the year, she descended from a helicopter right into the middle of the football stadium! What a sight it was. It was quite a stunt!

The article described that her father, mother, and all of her brothers and sisters were killed in the accident, but that Julie did not go on the trip and she was now the only survivor of her family. The article stated that Julie was engaged to be married. They quoted a strong testimony from her. She said that even though she did not have any immediate family to share this experience with, she knew that her family was called from this world for a better purpose. Her faith was simple: God needed them more than she needed them! She believed that God had a plan for her and her family, and that they were continuing their mission in the afterlife by helping and serving others there. She described the peace that she felt because of the gospel plan.

I struggled with my emotions at this time; Julie was a friend, someone I knew well. How could she have had so much faith at the time of such a terrible tragedy? Why was she not angry at God? I contemplated these things for a number of weeks and struggled with my own testimony of what happens after death.

During this period, the subject of death seemed to just keep popping up—wrongful death, early death, sudden death, and the like. Not long after I learned of Julie’s tragedy, a young man in our church congregation passed away. He was 3 or 4 years younger than I, about 15 years old, and had faced a long bout with a terminal illness. His name was Michael Poe. In the month before I was to leave on my mission, I was asked to sing with two other young adults at his funeral.

This was a difficult task for me because I was still dealing with my own emotions and mixed feelings about death and questioning how something so horrible as death could happen to such good people, especially my friend Julie, whose entire family had been killed. At the funeral, we sang the song “You’re Not Alone” by Michael McLean. As we stood and I looked out into the congregation, to my surprise, I spotted my former choir teacher Mrs. Lynn Love. Lynn was one of my favorite teachers and she put up with all my crazy behavior at school (I was a fun-loving but, unfortunately, often disrespectful student). I had never seen her at our church before; she was not a member.

I remember having such a strong spirit with me that day, and as we sang, I remember my voice floating above the notes and singing nearly flawlessly. During that time, I felt the presence of angels, and a spiritual support that was not my own. The funeral was sad, but also had faith-promoting messages. Michael was laid to rest, and peace was delivered through the Holy Ghost to all in attendance. After the funeral, I spoke with Lynn Love and she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sing so beautifully.” My answer was simple, “Today, I think I received some extra help.” She agreed. This was the last time I saw Lynn Love, a wonderful and dedicated teacher.

The next month I departed on my mission, and I would have to confront the issue of death and the afterlife on many occasions. As a missionary, you are often called to give a blessing of healing, to pray for people, and to give counsel on spiritual matters. I would always remember the peace I felt at the funeral of Michael Poe, the extra help I received while singing, and the knowledge of the gospel that gave the assurance that death is not the end. All men and women shall rise again and live again, having opportunities to grow, to repent, and to continue to serve those around them. This was a testimony given to me by my Heavenly Father, and something I could share with those whom I would serve on my mission.

What Happens After Death? We rise again into the world of spirits to await the resurrection and final judgment day when “every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus is the Christ.”