Hope in the Mourning

After my dad passed, there was a sense of relief from us.
After almost a year and a half of him battling cancer
and seeing him literally dying slowly every day, the reality that he was no longer suffering
and no longer in pain was a relief.
And as much as we all tried to “prepare” for his death,
the thing I didn’t prepare for was life without him.

Nobody prepares you for the fact that you can’t just pick
up the phone and call, send a text message, stop by to visit.
Nobody prepares you for the fact that life must go on
and doesn’t stop so you can grieve.
Even people checking in to see how you’re doing slows down
and you’re left with a world that has continued their life as normal,
while you’re left with a piece of your heart that has been ripped out.
Nobody prepares you for a song, an old car or a smell
that reminds you of him. Nobody prepares you for the tears that come
whenever they feel like it and care less if it interrupts your schedule.

Somehow, life must go on as normal.
How are you supposed to go back to “normal,”
when nothing about your life will be normal, ever!
You lost an important person in your life.

“You don’t mourn like someone who has no hope”
(1 Thess 4:13)
is what my counselor told me.
Oh, how those words spoke to the depths of my soul.

I don’t mourn such a huge loss as my dad as I have no hope.
I have hope, hope that I’ll see him again. Hope that he’s free of pain.
Hope that he is not experiencing pain or sorrow,
not just from the cancer but from this fallen world.

When I remember that His Word (Bible) is living and active
I can look to it for encouragement.
When I remember Holy Spirit is in me,
I can ask for comfort while I grieve.
When I am overwhelmed by grief
I get to look at what Jesus did on the cross,
the power of His death and resurrection,
and I get to mourn like someone who has hope,
knowing that this life is temporal
and we have an eternal home, heaven.
I get to both grieve and celebrate life all at once.

While there is still more grieving to do,
I now get to do it while celebrating the life of my dad
and how much he loved and was loved.
A privilege not everyone gets to experience.
I am hopeful for the day we are reunited, oh, what a day that’ll be!