When Gratefulness Is Elusive: Part III
I will not mince words here, but 2021 to present has required a good bit of storm-weathering, forced introspection(s), and more than usual cycles of grief. The lot of these were personal friends, two family pets, and most recently on Christmas Eve, 2022, my mother-in-law, Mary. Understandably, the latter has a much more profound impact on our family. More on that as we go along.
In the previous parts, 1 and 2, each dealt with a personal loss of friends. This particular entry dealt with the loss of a family pet, but it too has a second part that needs to be written for Mac’s brother, Mace. The timing was too close to my friend’s passing, that I have not written about it yet.
I have written this entry several times, trying to find words for my feelings regarding my mother-in-law. The best I can do is say that I truly miss her, and that her loss has profoundly affected me. While my grief is on the outer layers of what my in-laws must endure, they are my family and my heart grieves for them.
On December 23rd, 2022, Mary became very ill and was taken to the hospital. By early morning Christmas Eve, we would receive the news that she had passed during the night. This was sudden and completely unexpected.
In moments like that, we find our resolve fresh to carry grief and defiantly rely on God and His Gospel. However, and perhaps why I have written this entry so many times only to edit it and then leave it unpublished, is that grief is a burden that must be carried, a critical weight for the conditioning of our heart to not only heal, but also to harden. Life demands to be solemn and still, yet must move forward at short notice. We promise to never forget her, without knowing how to adequately remember her. We feel the necessity of detaching, yet are committed to never let go fully. This push and pull is the burden of grief, hardening where the loss hurts, healing where the loss bleeds.
In the six months since her passing, where we have needed our hearts to harden has started to be felt. The waves of grief have become gentler and solemn rather than angry and passionate. Part of writing this out and expressing it is a way of dealing, but importantly a way to remember not just Mary, but the finished work of the Cross.
Mary had remained quite the student of scripture, as well as a person of prayer. Like any great mother, she would carry the burden of concern for her children often in silence, committing them to the Lord. While Mary was not my mom, my view of her was heavily influenced by my relationship with mine. It would also give me insight into my wife, to see which qualities were shared.
As a son, I try hard to value the moments I get to see my own parents. Time goes by so quickly, it is impossible not to in some seasons take our loved ones for granted. All of us found cause to feel as though we took Mary for granted, the suddenness of her passing felt as though she were stolen from us. We dug deep to relive past moments, to draw upon their meaningfulness as a way to cherish what remains of her memory. In a sweet, providential happenstance, the entire family was able to make it to Thanksgiving in spite of significant strain in a few of the relationships. Proximity and time having softened some stubborn resolves, a tearful truce having been called, the family remains brought together through their mother’s passing. Even at present, some six months afterwards, while we all privately heal within our own context, the missing bond of Mary can be felt. The absent conduit of her presence, we are left to move forward with our lives in such a way to keep her considerations included. In time, such things will become a part of who we are, but for now the family remains mostly still in our ongoing grief, for such is life.
Where I draw the most bittersweet of comfort is that I know that Mary is at rest, experiencing the finished work of the Cross.
