FisherZ Ink LLC

Grief is sometimes unexplainable. It ebbs and flows. It has no respect or regard for time, space or occasion.

Just about a year ago, I lost my oldest sister. The experience has been unexplainable. This time last year, I was going to visit her in the rehab center. She had so many health challenges over the years, that regardless of the diagnosis or prognosis, I believed that she would overcome this time as well. She overcame indeed – just not the way that I had hoped for ultimately.

After losing my sister, it would appear that everything on tv or in the media focused on grief. Someone that I work with at the YMCA had a workshop (out of nowhere) called “Good Grief”. I thought that was a strange coincidence and even thought about attending. I figured that it might help me feel better – but deep in my heart, I did not want to feel better. The grief that I was experiencing was not “good”. Nothing about it was good and I was not interested in shifting my perspective.

If I had to describe my grief, I would say it is glowing … like an ember. As soon as you think the fire has gone out, something stirs the embers, and they begin to glow again … sometimes to the point where the fire starts all over again. I know in time, the oxygen supply will leave, the embers will cease to glow and will no longer be able to burn. That time can surely be measured, but every fire is different, right?

I love with my whole existence, so losing someone I love is devastating – even as a firm believer in the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. I know that my sister has gone home to be with the Lord. I know that she is safe. I know that her soul feels no pain. I am clear that she is resting in the presence of our Savior. And that is wonderful. But I can’t talk to her now. I cannot drop by her house and see what she is doing. I can’t fix her hair or laugh when she starts crying while watching a corny movie. That hurts. The pain GLOWS like an ember. I am confident that one day the embers of grief will cease to glow and will dissipate, but for now … it just glows. Selah.