Every year, about this time, I have visions of Christmas and my soul gets giddy. Oh, how I love that time of year. The excitement, the bliss, the forgiveness, the stories, and on and on. But each year, there is a tinge of sadness for what isn't.

A very few years ago, after traveling to my grandparents' place out of town, we received news that there had been a terrible wreck on their road, and the boy across the street had died. The boyfriend of his mama had lost control of the vehicle just mere minutes away from their house, and this little boy without the protection of the seatbelt flew out of the vehicle which rolled over him. The scene was found by my family. The mama was holding her now dead son and rocking him. There were other children in the car. But she held on tightly to what she had already lost.

I am reminded that life is for but a minute. It isn't long, and tomorrow isn't a promised thing. And in life, losing someone is heartbreaking. It's heartwrenching. But as Christians, we can't forget that in our sorrow, others are mourning as well. Others are heartbroken. It's so difficult in the situation of death to let go. To let go of what you've already lost thinking if you hold it tightly enough, you won't be losing anything. Instead, you end up losing everything.

I don't even know if I'm qualified to write this blog being that I've experienced few deaths and am blessed because of that.

I do recall, however, one Spring day hearing the news that my paw paw had passed away while on vacation to see his favorite flower in full bloom-the Dogwood. I knew before my mama ever got off the phone. I knew he was gone. I remember the neighbor coming and saying that Imy brother and I didn't have to go to school and that I could cry however long I wanted to. But I didn't. I held them so very tightly in and wouldn't let a tear fall. In retrospect, I reckon it was because I was so afraid of letting the tears go, as if tears would be truly admitting he was gone. Oh, but I was a sad little girl. Knowing what I know now, knowing how much damage holding too tightly to things as trivial as tears causes, I would have let them flow. I would have cried until I couldn't cry anymore. So I was what I thought was "brave" and didn't shed any tears. And for a long while, I didn't talk about him either.

You see, I think the reason we have a hard time talking about the dead is because it's so very hard to change to past tense verbs. So difficult and gutwrenching to say "He used to...." "He loved me..." Because by doing that very thing, we are letting a piece of that person go. They say the first step to anything is in realizing. When we change the tense of our verbs after a loved one's passing, we are realizing, even if subconsciously, that the person isn't coming back and won't ever do any of those things again. And that in itself is heartbreaking.

So we don't talk. At least, not for a while. And eventually, someone realizes that talking is a necessity in the healing process...so talk slowly builds until one day, it isn't awkward. Until one day, it's easy to talk about the loved one.

I didn't really have a direction to go with this blog. Just wanted to write a bit. Thanks for letting me share and sorry for not tying everything up with a pretty pink ribbon in a pretty big bow.

Through life and death, God is there with us guiding us with His gentle hand and giving us comfort we cannot understand. All glory and honor and power are His and His alone.

J