Genesis 23:1-4
Sarah lived to be a hundred and twenty-seven years old. She died at Kiriath Arba (that is, Hebron) in the land of Canaan, and Abraham went to mourn for Sarah and to weep over her.
Then Abraham rose from beside his dead wife and spoke to the Hittites. He said, “I am a foreigner and stranger among you. Sell me some property for a burial site here so I can bury my dead.”
Grieving is hard.
There is no “getting over it.” We don’t ever “replace” what was lost. The loss itself never goes away and for many, it barely “gets better,” whatever that might mean.
Loss is uninvited. It is invasive and disintegrating. It is raw and impossible to ignore. Grieving is hard.
We don’t get better at it with practice because every loss is totally different and takes a unique part of us away. And we have many things to lose. We don’t only lose people. When we do lose people, we don’t only lose them to death. We lose friends, neighbors, mentors, and co-workers. Illness forces a new way of life. Or it takes away opportunities. We lose financially and have to start over. We move and lose security and familiarity. We lose jobs and job opportunities. We miss promotions. We lose respect. We lose options. We lose hope. For most of us, our deepest grieving comes when we lose loved ones.
In every case, we lose something in the self. Something is taken that we can’t get back. We can’t re-make it or replace it. We are left hollowed out, devoid, empty. We are left with words that don’t work and tears that don’t stop.
Grieving is so hard. And it is necessary. It is hard and it is right and it is good to mourn and weep and bury those that are dead.
Reflect:
On an area in your life where, or for a person whom, you have lost and not grieved. On a time that you should have mourned and wept. On something that needs to be buried.
Journal:
On the meaning of what you had. On the weight of the loss. On the life that lived and then didn’t.
Pray:
For God’s peace and presence today and always.