Tears of Life

When I had to explain to my youngest daughter why we were walking only one dog and not two, she cried and cried and cried. (And it wasn’t even our dog, it was our neighbor’s dogs we were walking while they were away). I thought it would never end. It did. But then every time she remembered that one of them was gone she would cry. And then two weeks later we got the news that Grandpa passed away.
A writer on LinkedIn wrote about losing his father. And sometimes how when he was looking at a photo, the waves of grief would wash over him all over again, like he was losing his father all over again.
What does it say about us that we deny our feelings of grief? Over the loss of a child? A parent, a friend, a sibling, even a pet? My family is a fan of the Walking Dead series, so when Pastor Pelsue was preaching, I wrote on the bulletin “Walking Dead would have been a catchier title.” (He had “Living Dead” in the title of the sermon.)
When my daughter was crying, crying, crying, all I wanted was for her to stop crying. When I was grieving for my father, all I wanted was for the pain to go away. But when it “goes away,” you’ve died. The pain comes back every time you remember you’ve lost someone. It will never go away. Maybe it will be buried for a time, forgotten for a time, but it will come back when you face death again. It’s okay to cry, it’s okay to mourn. It’s not okay to act like death is nbd. Even if it’s a pet that’s not even your own.