Seasonally, this is the time when the light grows shorter each day and day dies into night for longer periods. Thankfully, the first day of winter is coming soon, and the light will begin to be stronger each day, at least until the cycle turns again.
Several of my dearest friends have lost a parent in the last few weeks. Maybe the decrease in daylight provides a more hallowed space to go within to process the sorrow and grief in a season that grows gradually more silent before the days get longer again. And maybe holiday social customs are more about being there for each other, to collectively knit a shawl of comfort for our collective, and ancient, mourning of autumn into winter, along with its metaphor of death.
As I sat at the funeral for my dear friend's father Al yesterday, the minister commended Al's soul to God. The minister wondered aloud for my friend's family, especially her mother, about what questions they would have for St. Peter when it was their time to meet up with their beloved Al again in Heaven. All the "why's" they would have...Why did Al have to go through such a devastating and dignity-taking illness as Alzheimer's? Why did it have to strip his brilliant mind and personality from him, leaving them with a mere shell of the great man that he was? Why did it have to drag on so long and inhumanely? I'm sure their list goes on and on.
As I listened, I reflected on the courage that it took for this family to be there for Al, through the emotionally devastating deterioration of his disease. There is that phrase, "What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger." One thing I can say is that this experience, though wearying on every level for them, brought out the strength in my friend and her other family members that none of them really knew was in them. They will be changed forever by this experience, but so were they also changed by having known and loved Al, and for his eternal impact on their lives.
In times of emotional stress, strength shows up as a result of, not as a reward for, suffering. With grace, maybe some of that strength can be directed to see suffering as a part of the ego's world, and not a part of God's World. We can't always see that God isn't to blame for the things that go awry in our lives...in fact it's probably our deepest spiritual challenge to finally see that Truth. But the process of asking "why" with an open heart will hopefully lead us to see that no matter what challenges the ego creates to throw us off course, God is always patiently waiting for us to see that He's right there with us...and that we're actually right there with Him, wrapped in the sweetest of comforters there can be.
All the "why's" can lead us to a wise knowing of the ever presence of God. The Holy Spirit can certainly unlock the "how's" for us.
Another of my friends lost her mother just a week before Al passed over. In the announcement of her mother's death, she included this poem, which I think can bring comfort to all of us who have lost loved ones, either this year, or during the holiday season from past years, or anytime of any year.
You can shed tears that they are gone
Or you can smile because they have lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that they will come back
Or you can open your eyes and see all they have left.
Your heart can be empty because you can’t see them
Or you can be full of the love that you have shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember them and only that they are gone
Or you can cherish their memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back
Or you can do what they would want:
Smile, open your eyes and love, and go on.
For Debbie, Elaine and Jill: who lost Al.
For Mary, Kevin, Marissa and Keegan: who lost both Mary's and Kevin's moms.
For Jane: who lost her mother Elaine.
For Michelle: who lost her mother Mary Elizabeth.
For Julie: who lost her father.
For Teresa: who lost her father.
For Dave: who lost his mother and his mother-in-law.
For Bob, Laura and Steve: who lost Marion.
For Gary and Laura: who lost Ruth.
For Sam: who lost his father.
For Nancy: who lost her brother John.
For Jean: who lost her father.
For Sandra: who lost Don, her father, and Scott.
For Bonnie: who lost her brother and her father.
For Caroline: who lost her brother.
For my own beloved grandmothers: Irene and Edith, as well as Grandma Edie's wonderful sisters, my great aunts...
And for all those others that live on in our hearts...
They're all gone now, but may they live on in our lives through our own memories and stories.