"Because death is just so full and man so small.
Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before.
And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair."
Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before.
And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair."
Grief. Not a soul is a stranger to him. However, each having our own unique, underdirable relationship. Grief is as unique a phenomenon a the person upon whom it befalls. A child dies far too young - his mother, too hysterical to bare the site of his barial must carried from the funeral home. A wife, only twenty-three, loses her husband after only nine months of marriage - stands without tears in her eyes, declaring their unwavering faith until the end.
Is this normal? Is this healthy? What dictates social protocal for the bereaved and grief stricken? And how about those who greave due to events other than death - job loss, a broken heart, lonliness, disease, financial hardship, the loss of hope or a dream - the list becomes endless. What can we do to numb the pain or tend to tend to a wounded soul?
I, like many, after years of broken-hearted cries, lonely nights, and disappointed dreams, decided to obstane from hope at all. Without hopeful expectation, one cannot be disappointed. It is the logical answer, after all. Time crawled on, loved ones still passed away, and all the while I watched. Like a detached researcher, I observed the world around me, as through it existed only behind a looking glass. -- A crisis of faith, some would say, however, I knew his real name and he clung to my heels like a shadow. Afraid that if the winds were to change and all bets called off, I might tumble down the rabbit whole...and perhaps, never find my way home again.
Grief, is a stranger to no one. Not even me. No bomb shelters or barracades can protect the heart forever. How then, should we grieve? What answer is there for the wailing mother and stone-faced widow? Be real. Be vulnerable. And be honest. If you feel that God has let you down and your heart is angry with unanswered WHYs - tell Him. Shake your fist, speak your bitter words, and shed your seemingly unending tears.
I imagine grief is much like infamous scenes from a John Wayne movie. A woman, hotter than hell, turns to walk away. However before her foot can fully hit the ground, John Wayne grabs her by the arm, spinning her into a kiss and his embrace. The woman, all the while, pounding her fists against his chest and struggling for freedom...he holds her there, until finally, she relents.
I am unmistakably no stranger to grief. He has, at times, been my closest companion. Though one thing I have undoubtedly learned, my Great Love (to steal the phrase) will always be my John Wayne, unshaken and unoffended by my grief soaked anger, relentlessly locking me in His embrace until my seething screams finally succumb to their underlying sorrow. Then...He holds me. I weep and silently, he rocks me - for as long and as frequently as I so desire. This is how I greave. This is my ritual - until the day when sorrow breathes his last breath and finally lays to rest.
