Lessons learn from past grief

I

t is cold and blustery this Christmas season. Looking out the bay window one would never guess it was this cold outdoors and only when you walk outdoors do you instantly feel the pain in your hand do you realize the severity of the cold.


I guess this is Minnesota and maybe I ought to be use to it having grown up in this cold landscape. My memories of winters growing up were helping my dad start both cars several hours each morning. At precisely the hours of 2 and 4 I would be woken up from a deep sleep only to have to put on my clothes, winter coat to go out and help dad start the cars. We had no garage and as dear old dad explained it the GI bill didn't allow for the luxury of having a garage built with the house. I must admit I didn't feel deprived not having a garage and when I look back few neighbors even kept their cars inside because of all the junk they had sitting inside.


One more memory from my childhood was when my younger brother's best friend Danny died. My brother was in preschool. I didn't know his friend well ( there was a 9 year age difference ), but I remembered having a heavy heart and feeling sad watching my younger brother go through the grief and loss of his friend.


Around that same time I remembered my parents getting us in the car one late afternoon and driving up to the Milaca hospital where we saw our grandmother who was happy to see us. I remember watching her as she laid flat on the hospital bed. I remembered saying goodbye and not long after we returned home that my mom received the news that grandma had died. I was 8 at the time of her death and seeing someone you loved passing away left me with a heavy heart. One moment I saw her alive and smiling on her hospital bed and the next moment I am glancing at her in her casket at the Lutheran church in Foley, Minnesota. Perhaps the hardest grief I ever had to do was when I buried my daughter Maria who was only 10 years old at the time. The loss of a child is perhaps the most painful form of grief. Nothing in life prepare you for this painful process. No manual, no book can possibly prepare you to go through this process..


The only thing that has even given us comfort and the wherewithal to survive this loss was God himself. Over the course of several years God has shown us in his word, and through friends he has imparted words of encouragement and reminders that when we die Christ has assured us that heaven would be our final home.


God reminded me that Danny, grandma and little Maria are having the time of their life in heaven. I was also reminded that time does heal all painful wounds of grief. Whereas I felt a deep sense of loss with each of these losses there did come a day where I was able to have a smile on my face as I reflected on the memories on the ones who went before me.