A woman I know, Tami Wickham, died of cancer, leaving behind her daughter and husband. I've seen her around for most of the last 13 years, including before I moved to my current home. I was never close with her, so I mourn for others, not for me. She found out about the cancer one month and was gone the next. I was working during the funeral, so I didn't make it. But I wanted to, if only to support others. I don't like funerals because of too many of my family's at once. It has become a trigger. But I would have gone if I could have.
Meanwhile, I visited a friend who was deeply mourning this lady. She felt the loss deeply because she truly knows the family. It feels like I've missed an opportunity by not trying hard to reach out, even when I knew death was coming. This friend of mine wept for the family who lost their loved one and also for the loss of her friend. Today, I have been surrounded by mourners. It makes me sad, but I still feel untouched. The fact that I don't feel it makes me realize I truly missed out on a real friend.
Things like this remind me that today is all we have. We hope there will be a tomorrow, but there may not be for us and everyone we know and love. It's a cliche, but it's still true that tomorrow is not promised. Life seems so much more fragile when you've gotten beyond the fiction of "It couldn't happen to me." Loss can happen to any of us at any time.
Even faith isn't an impenetrable shield. It means we trust God to guide us and help us in our lives, no matter what happens to us. He's not a light switch that stops the darkness from hitting us. It means we know He'll be there for us in the storm, not that there will be no storm. He's an umbrella that shields our hearts from the worst of the pain and comforts us when things are at their darkest. I'm thankful to have faith and hope in eternity. But I also know pain is part of life. And sometimes, it's part of the plan for us, part of what we need to help us grow into the person we need to be. I know it was part of mine. And I've grown a lot through the process, for which I'm grateful.
How has loss touched your life? I'd love to hear from you.
