The Weight of What We Lose

There's been some hard weeks.

My grandfather passed away almost two weeks ago after living 91 years. We drove to New York and spent time with the people that we love. In the background was death, a loss, and we each grieved as a unit and in our own separate ways. In death, the past reemerges and shows its ugly beautiful face and you find yourself dealing with it all over again. It sits at your table without your permission and you feed it, talk to it, laugh with it, confront it.

For the ones (people) we lose, it's comforting to think they're somewhere else, dancing in the Throne Room. I envy them. But as you think on a life, you remember. Remember events, details, incidents and the small picture starts to build to the big and you piece together your memories. And while they may all be good, doesn't it still leave a little twinge? A 'remember that?' A 'remember when we were younger and we ran free and he told us jokes and she made us laugh?' 'Remember when?' The passings and the comings and the goings and the goodbyes conjure up the memories.

And then my dog died. My dog! Flashbacks of My Dog Skip, Old Yeller, and Homeward Bound come coursing through my mind. We had Shelby 17 years : she lived through a million softball seasons, two houses, three kids to college. As life moved on and transitions kicked in and we were no longer children, she learned to live life a little more independently. Oh but she was faithful. (and for those who are wondering, no I do not like your dog (minus 2 Bellas, a Bentley, and a Quincy).. but I sure did love mine).

And as I've been thinking through this week, I've been thinking on the progression of life. The weight of what we lose. The pace of life doesn't stop and ask us how we're doing, slow down so we can get a better grasp of where time is going. It just.. happens, I guess, for lack of a better word. And we're stuck with what to do in the aftermath.

The big picture is that we lose. There is loss. We don't live life without some sense of loss. Come on people, it's inevitable. But the inevitability of it doesn't take away from the harshness of the reality of it : the weight of what we lose. And so we cling to the belief and hope in the temporariness of loss and we cling to the knowledge of how good our God is. Because He is better than we ever dared imagine.

JJ Heller has told me, 'don't let your eyes get used to darkness. The light is coming soon. Don't let your heart get used to sadness. Put your hope in what is true.'

That's a refreshing taste to a hard week.