Rest in Peace, Mr. Whitfield

This is going to sound morbid. I know. I can’t help it. But here are the facts: a couple of weeks ago, on a Saturday, a couple in my little suburb were walking their dog out in an unused field area, and their dog stumbled upon a terrible discovery: the skeletal remains of a human body. I saw the report in the local section of one of my online news sites, and was immediately struck by the fact that I regularly ran past the lot where this person was found. In fact, my friend and I had just run past it a couple of hours earlier, oblivious to the tragedy that existed in that field.


As days passed, an investigation was performed, which revealed that the body was of a 64-year-old man, Kenneth Charles Whitfield of Pittsburgh, who had gone to a local hospital for treatment of various medical issues, and somehow wandered out, unseen, in May of last year. No foul play was suspected – it looked like Mr. Whitfield had just lain down in the field and passed away. His concerned family immediately began searching for him, and had to wait over nine months to find out the fate of their father, brother, husband and grandfather. His obituary mentioned nothing of his sad, tragic final hours, but instead focused on his 39-year marriage, and the love and pride he had in his children and grandchildren. His memorial service was packed with the people from his community who knew and cared about him, and wanted to pay their final respects.

I lost my own father within those nine months in which the Whitfield family wondered and worried. I passed, nearly daily, the place in which Kenneth Whitfield lay. I can’t help thinking about the many things I did, from May until March, while the Whitfield family waited and wondered. My father’s death was unexpected, but peaceful. My entire family had a chance to wish him a happy New Year, and play cards with him a final time. We all had a chance to give him a last kiss goodbye, and mourn his passing with fresh, happy memories of when he was still with us. We had the good fortune to only have to experience the sorrow of a loss we were not ready for, and not the tragedy of a loss that just wasn’t fair.

My heart aches for those Kenneth Whitfield left behind, and the pain they must have felt, knowing that their father had passed away in that field. I know the questions that I ask myself about my own father’s passing: Was he aware of what was happening? Was he in pain? Was he scared? Did he know that he was loved? Was he at peace? I imagine that they have asked themselves many of the same questions in the past few days. And so, without knowing Kenneth Whitfield, all I can do is offer these words to the Whitfield family: Your father, husband, brother, grandfather, and friend will never be alone again. He has touched the lives and hearts of many, and our wishes of peace, love, and comfort are with you. May his soul and spirit watch over us all.