A Deep Sense of Loss

I feel a deep sense of loss since the mother of my wife passed away this Thursday last.

What a light she was to her family, to me, to her friends, to her neighbors, to strangers, to the church, to the elderly and children, to men and women, to the sick and the homebound. Her love of God and family was closely followed by her love for Scripture. And she knew Scripture better than a lot of priests and pastors and rabbis. Her deep rooted faith as a Christian was grounded in the Bible. I was continually impressed by the breadth and depth of her knowledge of Scripture. Not only did she know a wide variety of subjects, she knew them in depth.

And now, that light is gone. How does one go on? How do I pick up the pieces of my broken heart and carry on? Who will study the Scriptures with me and provide insights and comments and answer questions as only she could?

But more than a love for Scripture, she loved her family. And I feel blessed that she included me in her family. And she showed special love in cooking for her family. In making birthday dinners and Thanksgiving dinner and Christmas dinner and meals for just about any occasion.

And she loved to sew. She made bridesmaid dresses for the women in her family when her son got married. She made her eldest daughter's wedding dress and all the bridesmaid dresses and her own. She had piles and piles of fabric and patterns just waiting to be made.

She loved going to Vermont to the Trapp Family Lodge and just experiencing the peace of God in the mountains. One Shabbat, while retelling of visiting Vermont, she had tears in her eyes.

She loved music. She loved to sing. She delighted in her family playing instruments and singing. What music? Mostly praise music. But really, all kinds. She would even spontaneously burst into song over the slightest provocation.

She had a strong desire to be with her children and arranged her days around their work schedules so that she could spend time with them. Tuesdays, she would often spend time with my wife, who had that day off from work. Now that she's gone, Tuesdays will be hugely empty.

Lord, help me come to terms with my grief. Help me understand why she's gone. How can I fill the void that is in my heart? What solace is to be found in knowing she's with You? She's not here. She's not teaching, singing, laughing, cooking, worshipping here with us. She's all Yours, for eternity. And that's such a long time. Would it have been so terrible to let us keep her a while longer? Why? Why now? You know that she was doing well. You know that her health was good, that her energy was up, that she was feeling great. You know her eye was not dim and her vigor unabated. And yet, You decided to take her. You decided it was time for her to go. I can't understand. Should I be grateful that she didn't suffer? That she didn't have a lingering illness? Should I be grateful she wasn't taken in a car accident or fire or some other horrible means of dying? Is the pain and loss I feel any less severe because she didn't die in any of those ways? No. It is not. There are so many things left undone and unsaid. So many things I wanted to talk with her about. So many things I wanted her to experience. She never became a grandmother. She would have loved that, I know it. And yet, Thou hast robbed her of that opportunity.

How can I bend the knee and bow before You? How can I sing praises to Your Name, O Most High, when I feel such sorrow, such anger, such loss, such pain? How can I call this taking of life just? How is it righteous? How is it fair? "Wherefore hidest Thou Thy Face? Wilt Thou harass a driven leaf?"

Where is the Shepherd? Where is His rod and staff to comfort me? Why can I not see the glory of God manifest in the valley of the shadow of death? Lord, help me. Lord, hear my cry. Out of the depths, I call to You. Be not deaf to my plea for mercy. If only You would fufill Your Word and wipe away every tear. Oh where is Thy comfort?

And yet, I will praise Thee. For I feel she would want that. She would want me to carry on. And so I will offer this doxology, her favorite, in memory of her.

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow.
Praise Him all creatures here below.
Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts.
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
Amen.