Like a wave, sorrow approaches me. I could clench my jaw and hold back the flow, damming up the emotion. But I keep the floodgates open, and the tears fall and fall.
My brain does not know why I cry. My sorrow is not from thoughts, for they were scattered and confused, like fireworks shooting off brightly in all directions, like a boat tossed on the violent sea of sorrow.
Death reached out and touched my brother in the Spirit this week. The cold like a fell wind penetrates the flesh and the brain to the soul. It puts a weight upon my chest that is not physical.
The spiritual is the deepest darkness of death. Death affects the emotions and the brain: sadness for separation, sorrow for pain suffered. But the blackness, the despair goes deeper than that. It goes to the very essence of my being. This is the fount of these tears.
Why do we find death so difficult? Is not this the way things have always been? Why do we yearn for an exception? Why do we want to escape from this reality of death?
It has not always been this way. And it will not always be this way. There is a memory of eternity. And there is a hope for everlasting life. And this is why we yearn: because we know this truth deeper than we know our own name.