
On Tuesday it was four months since Mum died.
In that time I have experienced varying emotions...
There have been some days when I have not really thought about mum at all. When I then remember her I feel guilty - as if by forgetting about her for a moment I have somehow betrayed her memory. I know that this isn't true, but in the moment of realisation it feels like it.
In contrast, at other times I have seen her face everywhere I look.
Not surprisingly I have found some days harder than others - my birthday, for example. For all that I had a lovely day, something didn't seem quite right. It was as though a shadow hung over the whole day; a sense that something - or someone - was missing.
People continue to ask me how I am. If I'm honest I don't always know what to say. Sometimes I'm genuinely fine. At other times I feel anything but.
I'm struck that the frequency with which people have asked me has changed. It's a good lesson pastorally for me. Other people often have shorter memories of death than those who grieve.
But here's what strikes me the most... for all that I grieve mum's death, my grief is different to dad's.
He has lost the wife of his youth.
At the end of the day I go home to Debs, Tom, Grace & Laura. Dad goes home to an empty house.
His life has now changed for ever. He cannot go back. He will never be married to mum again. Even in the new creation, when they see each other again, it won't be as husband and wife. Nothing is the same.
Biblically speaking mum and dad were one flesh, but when mum died dad was literally torn apart.
And yet for all this, God the Father wonderfully reveals himself to us as 'the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort' who comforts us in our troubles so that we can in turn comfort others.
So that son can comfort father, and father son, and together we can comfort others who also grieve.
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