It began with the ringing of the phone and the hesitation on the other end to speak as I said, “Hello.” Sometimes you just know, what you’re about to hear…it just isn’t good news. The voice tries to remain strong in times like this, but trembling vocal chords almost always give us away when delivering news of one found not breathing. A hero had leaped into action, offering his own breath to fill her lungs until help got there…but even upon the arrival of experts with shiny equipment and flashing lights, there was little that could be done. They rushed her to the hospital and, just as we arrived–with loved ones all around, willing her to live–she breathed her last breath and let go.
Some pray, some weep, some find solace in swallowing deep. There are those who become angry, some who want to blame, and still others who are incapable of doing anything at all. The room becomes full of the empty, as tears stream down cheeks and the questions already begin to form. In a reactionary manner, some immediately jump into phone calls and busyness, while others just sit, gaping and aching, as the loved one transitions from this world into the next.
What does one say in these moments? God knows I’ve seen more of them than I care to recall. Still, every time, I find myself with no wisdom…no protocol to follow. When the empty consumes and the heart shatters, words seem hollow and there’s nothing quite like the touch of a hand or a scooping into arms to say the words our mouths cannot form. We are all inadequate here, and our attempt to use words only makes things worse.
But there is One in the room Who knows just what to do. He is THE Comforter, Who never fails to come…and that is a promise we can stand upon.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” – Matthew 5:4
All who mourn WILL be comforted…Even those who don’t yet know Him. He comes, and with Him, hearts begin to feel a kind of peace that makes no sense. We almost want to fight the comfort, as letting go of the pain seems nearly synonymous to letting go of the love we had for her. But in the letting go, you don’t love her less. You simply release her from allowing death to become the basis of her memory. You release her from oxygen tanks and declining health. You release her from worries and bills and a frightening, broken world. But the love…the love stays forever.
In a little while, we will all get together and tell tales of a life now lost to this world. We will even find ourselves once again able to laugh…but not without wondering if it’s appropriate to do so. Then the crowds will fade and the busyness will slow…and THAT is when reality begins to really settle in. It may be a song that triggers a memory; a picture that falls from a book; even a faint smell that reminds us of her…and in THESE moments, each survivor will need to dig deep in order to come to personal grips with the situation–as Holy Spirit…the One Who is already there…helps us heal.
It is also in these moments that we decide to let her live again…in our minds…through happy thoughts of a life lived fully; through countless stories that no one else would ever believe; and through letting go of the pain of the loss to fully embrace the beauty of the life now complete on this earth. Here is where we remember: It’s okay to let go, because this world is not our home, and we will be with our loved ones again when the time has come for us to make our final transition. For life is never meant to be about the momentary breaths we took here in this world, and it’s certainly not about the dying. It’s about the hope of living forever in the Kingdom of God, where tears are gone and death is no more.
“‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” – Revelation 21:4
220 Gal 