Until you feel the full force of grief, you remain in an enviable state. The death of a loved one stirs emotions so deep that you wonder at its end. Such is the intensely personal nature of grief that, when looking back, you feel amazed that you came out with any form of sanity. One sluggish step after another is taken in a fog of feelings consisting of happy memories, regrets and the sense of loss. My father was 62 when he died. I was 12. It was I who, because of my youth, didn’t have a clue as to the impact of his death. I was well into my twenties before I realized what was missing. Young men need their fathers. There loving presence is an anchor that stills and disciplines—man to man-to-be! I attended a Tongan funeral in recent years. I only knew the daughter of the deceased, so all my thoughts were on her loss. That was until a small group started to sing a funeral song in Tongan. I didn’t understand a word, but when the deliberately high shrill voice of the alto cut the air, I knew that it was an invitation to mourn our collective loses. We really are all in this together. Death affects all of us. Grief is shared even when we feel most alone. Jesus wept at the death of his friend Lazarus—it’s only natural (Jn.11:35). I have pondered the depth of sorrow the disciples of John the Baptizer must have felt when they collected his body (Mt.14:12). At the foot of the cross Mary felt that ‘sword piercing her own soul’ that Simeon prophesied would happen 33 years earlier (Lk.2:35). Jesus rose 3 days later. It is because he removed sin (the sting of death) by taking all of it upon himself on the cross, that we, by faith, can pass from this life into the next in hope. I am eternally grateful for the kindness of those who walked beside me when I was—‘Without a clue.’
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