On Grief...

The rest of Conrad's remains arrived last night. The local fire department was on hand to transport him from the plane to the hearse. It was heart-wrenching and touching at the same time.

I have been having a hard time lately wrapping my head around the idea of death. I have been stuck in a mode of grieving that I can't understand. Ever since Conrad was killed, I feel like I've been trying to come to terms with the sorrow that accompanies death. I've watched my sweet friend Ann struggle with loneliness, grief, and anger, and I've continued to feel those same emotions myself. Does it seem strange that I feel lonely in spite of spending every day with my best friend? When I go to sleep at night, I have difficulty sleeping well because I feel like if I'm asleep, I'm not with him. I am literally overwhelmed at the very thought of losing him.

I can clearly see that this is not the best line of thinking. I've talked to some friends about it, and I was surprised at how many of them worry about losing a spouse or a child more often than they consider "normal." This did make me feel a little better. Some also suggested maybe I was feeling a type of survivor's guilt. It is difficult at times to feel comfortable with my own happiness when I see my friend so devastated.

I dusted off my copy of C.S. Lewis's "A Grief Observed". If you're not familiar, after his wife passed away from cancer, he went through an intense cycle of grief, anger at God, and finally, a reawakening as to God's role in death. One of my favorite quotes is found in this work. He says,

"You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death to you. It is easy to say you believe a rope to be

strong and sound

as long as you are merely using it to cord a box. But suppose you had to hang by that rope over a precipice. Wouldn't you then first discover how much you really trusted it?

Only a real risk tests the reality of belief."

I think that's what this comes down to for me. I have always held to the doctrine of life after death. And I have always been taught that this eternally-binding principle can bring us comfort and peace in a time of loss. Using that doctrine to cord a box has been comfortable to me for the better part of 37 years. Suddenly, however, I find myself hanging over a precipice. And my rope seems to be an unsteady lifeline. I don't doubt the validity of Heaven, of God or of His love, but I seem to be struggling with the reality of finding peace throughout grief. I understand it's a process, and I may not be very far along just yet.

It is indeed a risk to believe that if I were to lose my husband, God could provide any semblance of peace for me; and truly this tragedy is testing the reality of my belief. Faith, however, is the sustaining force of my cord at this point. I am relying on this cord in the hope that when all is said and done, this changing reality of my ideas will prove only to strengthen the rope with which I must both bind my beliefs and hang my challenges .