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.
Grief is an odd thing. You know that your loved one is with God and you "should" be happy they are there. It is just that a part of you here on earth has been removed in some fashion. A chunk of your heart is missing. It is a deep despair that can't be rectified - you just have to move through the pain. After almost 3 years, the grief of the loss of my mom invades my soul. It is something that will never leave me. I can't explain it. I would just like that part, the missing part back. Our pastor says "count it all joy . . ." he says the joy is not in the event, but in what you were able to "endure" through the suffering. I now know exactly how someone feels when this happens and I can TRUELY emphathize with them. I can pray and TRUELY understand what I'm praying for. I am learning to "count it all joy". And, so, David, my heart cries out for you and your loss. This part of yourself that Wolf took will no longer be with you, but will be replaced with warm memories, lessons he's taught you and an understanding of what death really is and how you can help others through times such as these. I will be praying for you as you grieve. It is an ongoing process.
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