If we believe what we say we believe…
We attach a virtue to grief that perhaps is undeserved.
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We can become mired in it: the sympathetic glances, the soft tones as people speak of those passed, the concern for our well-being, the gentle pats on the back.
I am so sad that Robert didn’t get to go with me on the trip to Normandy, that M— will never graduate from high school, that they will miss this Christmas with the family.
Who am I kidding?
I miss them! I miss the conversations, glances, jokes, and tears that build intimacy and memories. I need them with me day to day, in the flesh, to love me and validate my existence and purpose.
Anyone see a pattern here?
If I believe as I say I do, in eternal rest in the presence of a loving God, and if I love the departed as I claim, then why am I mourning that they are not here? If I really believe that they are “in a better place”, then why in the world do I keep wishing they were still in this physical world, with all its pain and imperfections?
Let’s face it. Because I am a selfish soul. My love for them has a needy root centered way down in my gut. I need them! I want them! Universe, this is not fair to me!
I admit that I do not love them unconditionally. If I did, and if I believed in a heavenly hereafter, then I would be at peace. I would wake up smiling at the sunrise, knowing they would never face darkness again. I would sleep at night knowing they would always find rest.
But I wallow in my selfishness and doubt. I cry and moan to an uncompromising universe. Part of the pain of grief is facing my own human frailty, and it is ugly. It’s not the specter of death I should worry about; it’s the darkness of my own nature that should frighten me.
Would I pull them back from death for a few more days, an hour, a moment? Even if it returned Robert to all his physical pain and mental worries? Even if it plunged M— back into her emotional torment?
Yes, in a heartbeat! I need them here with me!
We typically don’t acknowledge this side of grief. People are too caring and polite to point out the obvious: If we believe what we say we believe, then they are better off than we are.
If they are in the presence of an all-knowing God, then they know the whys and wherefores to all the questions that torment us. They can see all of time, unfolded and unfolding. They can understand the reason they left us. They can see the purpose in it all.
God knows I can’t.
Especially not for M—. Her death violated the natural order of things. Children should not die before their lives have a chance.
Yet here I am. Still selfish and wrestling with the reality of loss.
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