Loss

Growing up I never understood the grief in death. My grandparents on both sides died before I was born or was old enough to remember any of them. My first experience with genuine loss came when I was 20-years old. My aunt died. I’d been to funerals for different relatives and family friends before. Some of those deaths were sadder than others for various reasons but the first one to really hit me was my aunt. She’d been there my whole life. I used to stay at her house when preschool was done until my parents picked me up. My sister and I used to go to her house during school holidays to watch TV (before cable came to where we lived). We became friends with her music students. Sometimes I would go with her when she had playing engagements, at some church or other, to be page turner and general baggage carrier. She was my idea of what and aunt was to be, not intrusive and always available. When I was away for college, I’d always check in with her on my visits home. When she passed, I was away at school and couldn’t make it back for the funeral. I remember the sense of loss I felt. My sister and I cried together for the loss of our aunt. That loss shook me, but I was still firm. A few years later another aunt died, I’d known her my whole life as well, but she was different from her sister. She was one of life’s truly unique personalities. She was a nurse, a very good nurse. But she lived a bit more in her own world marching to the beat of a different drummer, as one might say. I was also away at school when she passed. I don’t remember crying when she died, I was sad, but I imagine that I may have been inoculated to the grief, by the loss of the first aunt.

Then a few years went by and I received the gut punch from which I’m still recovering. My father died. There still are no words to express this pain. He was my protector, provider, teacher, and friend and he’s gone. When he died, I was at home. I’d finally finished my last degree and came home. He’d been sick and about a year before he passed, he received his diagnosis. I got the call on New Year’s Eve with the news. I called his siblings to let them know. When I came home, he and I hung out like we usually did, I tried to be as much help to my mother as I could in caring for him. Then 11 months after his diagnosis he went to sleep, and it knocked the wind out of me. But as I have been raised to do, I went into work mode. My tears were not immediate. There is a lot of paperwork and planning that happens at the end of a person’s life. I called his siblings and informed them, then I did all the running around associated with planning a funeral. When we sat down for family worship that Friday night it all came flooding out. No more work to do on the Sabbath, you see, so it all came out at the sound of his favourite Sabbath hymn. That Sabbath happened to be my birthday. Then we buried him that Sunday.

I’m writing this because a friend of mine lost his mother, after a lengthy illness, a few days ago and I’m not sure how he’s dealing with it. Two other childhood friends recently lost their brother, suddenly and unexpectedly, as well, and I know one of them is struggling. I know there many other people in this world that are experiencing loss in various degrees for varying reasons. I learned recently that at least 70 people in my country have been declared missing. This number is exponentially greater across the world. A loss like this I imagine may be worse than death because you are stuck in the land of not knowing. Loosing a loved one has caused many to lose their faith in God. I was reading John 11 recently and it brought me to tears thinking about my father. I really believed that my daddy would get better, to his last breath, I believed. He’d never really been sick the entire time I knew him, I was sure he would recover. But he didn’t, and the story of Lazarus made me ask God why. Why not my father? He was still relatively young. He was highly active and very energetic up until his diagnosis. Why didn’t I get that miracle? I believed. The simple answer is, The All Knowing, All Loving, All Powerful God, saw that the greatest good would come from allowing His faithful child to rest. The hurt and the pain and the added responsibilities left by those who are gone will draw those who remain closer to Himself and bring Glory to Himself (John 11:4). But we must be humble and accept God’s judgement in life (Romans 8:28). God allowed John the Baptist, His servant, the greatest of the prophets, to die in a most vicious manner (Matthew 11:7-11; 14:3-12). Judgement will be meted out on the perpetrators of his death but a greater good was achieved, Christ was lifted up and we all have a hope of salvation (Luke 3:16; John 3:30).

Like Martha I know I’ll see my father at the resurrection. I believe his sins are forgiven and I know he served the Lord faithfully and believed completely in every Word of God. The waves of sadness still come, with I think that he won’t see me married or know my children in this life. But I have faith that he will know them from the rest of eternity in a land were there will be no more sickness or dying, no more pain or misery and all tears will be wiped away and all things will be made new (Revelation 21:4). Until that day I keep most of my thoughts of him, happy ones. I remember the positive impact he had on his students, his laugh, his sense of humour, his reliability, the example he left of what a father should be. His example let me know some of what my Heavenly Father is like (Matthew 7:11). Now that my earthly father is gone, God in Heaven stands firmly, unwaveringly and reliably as my Protector, Provider, Teacher and Friend.

May this bring you Comfort