Loss


There is a firm line
Between what was
And what is
And we cross it every moment of every day of our lives,
We hardly notice it,
Only sometimes acknowledge it with the changing of the leaves or the stature of a child,
But the magnitude of loss emboldens the line so that it is not only noticeable,
But undeniable and irrevocable,
A mark made of permanent ink on a timeline drawn in pencil,
And we trip over these lines as we grow, falling face down into the black abyss of loss and pain,
And that feeling that we can never go back to the time before,
That nothing will ever be the same

But we cannot go back anyway,
Can never be smaller than we have become,
And so we recognize the inevitability of loss,
The inexorability of forward movement,
And as I wonder why I cannot take these people and thing that I love with me as I grow,
My only hope to realize that one day I will be big enough to encompass both past and future simultaneously
And so it is not in trying to get back that I will find the comfort of renewing that which was lost to me,
But in continuing to move forward,
Somehow I must accept loss, must embrace it,
Must learn to love it,
For as Job said, “The LORD gives and the LORD takes away, blessed be His Name,”
And I must learn to live in a world without those lost to me,
Knowing that seeing them again won’t mean what I used to think it would mean,
Knowing that I didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, cannot understand,
But trusting that all dying is dying to live,
And each of us is becoming,
Crossing that line every day
Between what is
And what was.

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