Late Night Visitor – Grief Does Not Social Distance
My aunt passed away yesterday on the most beautiful, blue-skied sunny day of May. There were no clouds in her way when her spirit met with Jesus and together they soared up to heaven to meet her husband, her baby boy, and all the family and friends who have gone before her. Her 93-year-old body has been vacated. She can breathe, walk, run, and move freely forever in the light of Christ.
The funeral will be small, holding to the group size restrictions during the pandemic. Not all of her immediate family will be in the same room to gather for the final blessings, but they will be near by. The grief felt at a funeral is temporarily snuffed out by a hug; however, there will be no touching and the face masks worn will double as tissue.
I grieve with my cousins, their spouses, and the grandchildren. From my own experience, I know the feeling of being an orphan and losing the matriarch of the family. It feels so unnatural to not be there to hug each cousin, kiss my aunt on the forehead and wish her godspeed.
my eyes grow weak with sorrow,
my soul and body with grief.