It was just an ordinary intersection, but it was the one on which stood the doctor’s office that I had spent some of the last year accompanying my father to as he went to his appointments. The sight of that left turn caused my heart to tighten. Such a small memory for such a big pain.
Loss does that, doesn’t it? When you least expect it, a little reminder will pop up, and your heart constricts, your eyes moisten, and you wonder, will it ever end?
Any loss––friendship, spouse, family member––is painful. And, depending on the circumstances of that loss—rejection, divorce, death—the aftermath can vary in intensity.
Of course, not all memories in the aftermath of my loss are painful. For me, the earlier memories with Dad––trips, holidays, working on my backyard––all bring a smile to my face and some very good stories. The later ones–– such as our final trip together where he met his youngest great-grandchild and saw family members and high school classmates for the last time––are more poignant.
No, the painful ones have been the small reminders of his health struggles and his valiant and silent fight against them. He never complained. He never let on. He just kept fighting. And it hurts when I see something that reminds me of that.
But, I am reminded that God saw those times too, and sees my struggles as I deal with these feelings now, and reminds me that currently “The LORD is close to the brokenhearted . . .” (Psalm 34:18), and one day “He will wipe every tear from their eyes . . .” (Revelation 21:4).
Loss does that, doesn’t it? When you least expect it, a little reminder will pop up, and your heart constricts, your eyes moisten, and you wonder, will it ever end?
Any loss––friendship, spouse, family member––is painful. And, depending on the circumstances of that loss—rejection, divorce, death—the aftermath can vary in intensity.
Of course, not all memories in the aftermath of my loss are painful. For me, the earlier memories with Dad––trips, holidays, working on my backyard––all bring a smile to my face and some very good stories. The later ones–– such as our final trip together where he met his youngest great-grandchild and saw family members and high school classmates for the last time––are more poignant.
No, the painful ones have been the small reminders of his health struggles and his valiant and silent fight against them. He never complained. He never let on. He just kept fighting. And it hurts when I see something that reminds me of that.
But, I am reminded that God saw those times too, and sees my struggles as I deal with these feelings now, and reminds me that currently “The LORD is close to the brokenhearted . . .” (Psalm 34:18), and one day “He will wipe every tear from their eyes . . .” (Revelation 21:4).
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