Living with Loss Loosely

I have an abundance of thankful thoughts as I think of my dad.  Not my 'dad' (the spiritual father I have been blogging about) but my real, biological dad.  My real dad is the dad I wrote about in my blog "A Very Happy Father's Day".  Blessed immensely with a wonderful, creative father, he has helped me look at my world with interest and unique perspectives.  Yes, dad, I know you read these blogs, and I hope you find today's filled with love and appreciation.

My dad has always had some unique 'views' of life and living.  He frequently posited 'interesting' questions that brought a lot of humor into our lives and even the lives of his grandchildren.  One question I fondly remember him asking me in my very young days and my boys watching dad play with them was, "Why don't we have an eye on the end of our forefinger?  Then we could see around corners!" Following that statement, he would stick his finger in my ear (and our son's ears) telling us that I didn't have an ear infection.  Another time he poked his finger through my door and waited...until I noticed saying "I see you."  I remember having a toy gun that shot orange ping-pong balls.  It was hinged with a mirror on top so you could stick in around a corner, see your target (most always my brother, but on rare occasions my mother) and shoot it...always reminding me of my dad's wishing he had an eyeball on the end of his finger.  Such great memories!

In my blog a few days ago, in my opening volley I wrote, "One of the hard parts of grief is that we are in it and 'the world just goes on'.  So what does the opening volley of this blog have to do with this?  Trust me.  Stick with me. 

My father, posing interesting questions, way outside the box formulated my questioning spirit.  Sure, eventually I thought, "It wouldn't make sense to have an eyeball on the end of my index finger.  I'd be smashing it into everything and it just wouldn't be practical...or would it?"  Well?  Driving on my way to leading the grief recovery group, I was thinking about "the world just goes on" thought, and off I went.....

What if, because of our great grief and loss, the world did stop for it?  What would that look like?  While standing in line at the grocery store, the person behind us (complete stranger) taps our shoulder and gives us a hug, without our prompting, and says they are so sorry for our loss.  The checker then also pauses and sincerely says, I heard about your loss the other day and was waiting to see you.  I have been praying for you.  You are shopping at Costco, everyone we pass acknowledging our grief and loss, in every aisle!  Indeed the whole world is now sad and noticing our loss.  The next day, we go to get gas and the station is closed, in fact all the stores are closed to honor our loved one and our loss.  Everywhere you go for weeks, even months, people, complete strangers all around us are saying they are sorry for our loss.

I think you know where I am going.  My dad imagining what it would be like to have an eye on the end of our forefinger is interesting and humorous, but not practical.  If we got what we think we wanted, the world to stop, acknowledging our grief, it would be absurd, very unhealthy and extremely uncomfortable. 

There are reasons for life 'going on' as we are bowled over in grief.  Death and dying, though many do not rush to think of it, and most dash away from it like the plague, is a part, daily of life.  We see it and hear it in the news...daily.  We don't think it will touch us, as if by it's regular appearance in the lives of others, never touching us, we are immune.  But if death has not slammed into your life, losing someone you dearly love?  It will.

If the world stopped for my grief, we'd all have to stop for everyone's, every day.  There would be little healing, nonexistent hope, lack of joy.  Leading a grief recovery group has changed my life.  A lot.  Every Thanksgiving celebration, every Christmas, every birthday now has a realistic tinge of hurt as I think about many gathering around the table one seat empty because of loss.  Be it a military family whose loved one gave all in service of us.  Be it the family whose loved one didn't make it to work or home because they perished in a car accident, or at the hands of a driver under the influence of alcohol or cell phone.  Be it the family who lost a daughter to a selfish act of violence, or just the process of aging as it is with my spiritual 'dad' Warren.  But I live with loss loosely.  The sting doesn't overcome my life with paralysis.  It deepens my joys, reminding me to drink deeply, the time I have with those I love today.  It causes me to remember and share now, while they are still living, the precious memories I have, adding abundant wealth to my life. 

So dad, I wanted to share with you and my blog world, my sincere appreciation for the gift of query you added to my life.  The stirring of a curious mind willing to venture into interesting places with interesting thoughts.  I want to also thank you for never putting the kibosh on my personal explorations and interests, always fueling them with purposeful and loving support; Both you and mom standing together, inspiring my heart.  There is an abundance of joys that await in every day.  Sure the wound of grief requires attention to bring healing, but the miracle of life is that with a bit of care, along with the intervention of God, the healing will come.  I can live with loss loosely because nothing will ever take away the fullness of living life lavishly, starting with you, dad and mom, raising and cultivating this heart, continuing on as the LORD develops it even deeper.  I am eternally grateful for your investment and the continual investment of my LORD for His glory.