Grieving?

Grief

It was the end of the day. I was tired, but still had supper to prepare. As I cooked, my teenage sons kept me entertained with tales of their day. The phone rang, and I answered in my usual peppy voice. It was my sister-in-law’s distinct mid-western accent. I started to say, “What a nice surprise!”, when I caught the tone of her voice, and my words changed to, “What’s wrong?”

In a split second everything changed. She told me that my forty-one year old brother had just died of a heart attack. I couldn’t breathe. I thought that I hadn’t heard correctly. Billy didn’t have a heart condition. He’d just had a good report from his doctor after an annual check-up. I had just been to Michigan, for a visit with him, two weeks before. He looked fine.

But, that’s how it is, isn’t it? Life, with its routine, is suddenly interrupted by the unthinkable. Our world is shattered, and we have to learn how to pick up the pieces. But, when death occurs, there is preparation that must be made, in the midst of the pain. For me, I had to make a plane reservation and pack.  

I needed to move quickly, but I found it difficult to focus. Memories were sweeping through my brain like a movie screen. Billy and I were just two years apart in age. As children, on a farm, we had no friends that lived near us. We had each other, but that was enough. We were extremely close, and now he was gone. It was like a big piece of the puzzle, which was me, was missing. How was I to move forward when I felt incomplete?

This is where the power of faith makes the difference. Life, on earth, was intended to be temporal. That’s part of God’s gift to us. Our time here is hard, but we do not have to endure it forever. Our eternal home is perfect. Billy had just moved on before I did. We would eventually be reunited. I struggled to feel whole without him, but I knew that my “completeness” was in my relationship to my heavenly father. It was not in my relationship with my brother, precious as that was.

You know what I mean. You understand loss and the inevitable pain. Loss is common to mankind, but it doesn’t feel common, at all, when going through it. The earth may feel shaky under one’s feet when the pronouncement of death comes. You may feel that you can’t handle this new reality. Life, on earth, is forever changing. We have no control, but Christ is constant.

When Billy died, I found the need to grab hold of “the solid rock”, Christ. It was important to realize that there was something that would never change. I can count on Him. You can, too!