I dont know (about grief)

We talked about blogging at our parish pot luck on Sunday afternoon. One has blogged, but quit. Another had questions about why I am blogging. Why? It is good for me to revisit this question: Why am I blogging? --and attach it to my new life purpose statement, which I wrote last week and now need to USE. One said he did not have time for his blog. I said it took me as much time to write my post as it takes you to read it. Another told me of a book and said the style reminds him of my writing.

It's raining again.

So much has happened this past week.

I have an analogy in my head this week. The news of a death is like being touched by a hot iron. But normally when one is touched by anything hot, he pulls away instantly. He has a burn and it takes days or weeks for the pain to subside. But with death, the iron stays on you. It stays touching you, burning. You swoon, but you cannot pull away from it. It is a fact.

Changing the analogy, you try to replay the moment you heard the news and change the ending. You rewind the tape over and over, hoping you heard wrong. But it keeps playing the same words.

My friends. I wish I could remove the hot iron from them and take them to the ER and get them properly cared for. But I cannot. All I can do is be near and sympathize with them and help them do things that need to be done. I find myself putting my hand on my throat, taking a big breath, shocked all over again each time I remember. And I know my friends' pain is multiplied a thousand times mine. I hardly knew their son really. I learned at his memorial service how loved he was and how funny and how intense. I only knew him from his parents' perspective. Dear Father, I do thank you because of the way your body, Christ's body, has come around to help and support them. I ask for more grace for today. Just get them through today.