On Grieving at Easter

Steve and I are sloshing through grief at very slow speeds. Some days feel almost normal, and others not so much. I can't imagine what it's like to lose a spouse or a child. Grief is heavy, and slippery. It doesn't stay put on a shelf, or come out at convenient times. Even with losing two parents after all these years, the memories adhere to your heart and don't fade. At some point, those memories will become a great comfort. Now they can be painful.

Cory TenBoom said, “People grow old, but emotions do not grow old.” Very true. Feeling childhood emotions is not childish, but very real now as I remember a birthday cake my mother made twice, after the first party was spoiled when I woke up with mumps. Steve remembers misty mornings on Chautauqua Lake when his strong daddy rowed two young boys and their fishing poles miles in a rented boat, going after “the big one.”

It is a quiet morning before Easter. And where are our parents now? Rejoicing in heaven with generations of faithful family, friends, but most of all with Jesus. I think they are but a breath away. We are this side of the veil rejoicing with them, wishing we had one more morning together.