Good grief

I dreamt of E last night and in it she was dying and in the last few weeks of her life, which is about where we are this time last year. I think of E every day and I miss her, but these last few weeks have been especially difficult. I find myself crying at random moments, like when the car is idling at the stop light. Edna St. Vincent Millay’s poem Time does not bring relief; you all have lied resonates so strongly with me for my grief is as fresh and strong as it was when she left.

Life goes on for it has to, but the loss of a loved one marks you for life. The grief is real, the grief is intense and it will never be over. I will never get over this loss until the day I die, and I don’t want to, for I loved her too deeply to ever hope to forget her. She was so much more than a cousin to me and I still question God why she had to leave so soon for she had so much more life to live.

Sure, I know that she is probably doing more good now in heaven, that she is ministering to more people in countless ways. Sure, I know we will be reunited eventually and we are actually reunited at every mass I celebrate, but it’s not the same. I want to hear her voice, see her smile, enjoy eating a meal together with her. I MISS HER. There is a huge void in my life that can never be filled.

So what do I do with all my grief? Mostly I keep it buried deep inside, and I keep it under tight control. I don’t allow myself to fall into depression for I know she wouldn’t have wanted that. In mourning my loss, I try to honour who she was by living out my faith as completely and radically as she did hers. I know she would have liked that for she has always pointed me to Jesus, the great love of her life.

As for the sadness, and all the tears shed and unshed, I offer it all up to Jesus, to somehow make it count and make my life more meaningful. Oddly it works. I am more grateful for my relationships, the many people whom I love. Knowing that time is finite I strive to be more loving and forgiving. And when I don’t feel charitable at all, I can hear E’s quiet voice coaxing me to be less judgmental and critical, to be a better version of me. Just as I lost her, I can lose others I love as easily. Don’t wait until it’s too late.

Beyond my self-pity I do thank the Almighty for the wonderful treasure E has been to me and still is. Yes, she is gone, but she is not forgotten, and in remembering her and what she stands for, I am strengthened to continue to walk with faith and integrity, with joy, hope and love in my heart.