"Let me show you something," my husband said, pointing to a message on his cell phone. What I read went something like this--
"I don't know if you've heard, pastor, that my wife_______is close to death."
I put down the phone. Tears formed in my eyes.
I sighed and started walking, wiping away the tears. Feeling frustrated by them. As I remembered this friend's faith and eagerness to learn when I shared life with her, my sadness increased. I loved her. I will miss her.
I haven't seen her for years. I won't be able to visit her again. I still miss my sister who passed away in 2020. If I'm able to attend this friend's memorial service, I will likely cry again.
Questions to think about
Do you think it's okay to cry when we suffer loss?
Why or why not?
Is it appropiate to set time limit for grieving?
If so, who sets the limit?
These are the additional lines of my poem, Undignified.
Grief is not neat and orderly.
I’d like her to be.
I want to assign her a time and a space.
She doesn’t agree.
Paying no attention to the clock,
She interrupts me at unexpected times and in unexpected ways,
Never saying, “Please!”
A demanding and impatient child,
She will not calm down until I give in to her.
Then, in just a few minutes,
She curls up and goes to sleep.
I return to neat and orderly.
It’s not like it used to be.
For some reason, I have more peace.
Neat and orderly is still part of me,
But she’s not so hard on me.
Having given up perfection,
She treats me with affection.
Preview and purchase Songs of Joy in the Valley of Tears HERE.