We call them “grief moments” or “grief days,” and it is still surprising how quickly and unexpectedly they can come upon us. Those who have experienced a deep loss will know that, even while you do eventually get on with your life, you never get over your grief. It is ever-present in the background, usually out of mind and usually out of notice, but sometimes instantly and unexpectedly drawn to the surface.
A couple of days ago, I was sitting on the couch with little Finnegan on my lap. Though he’s just barely a year old, he is already quite capable of interacting with my iPad. He likes to open the Photos app, point to people in the pictures, and grunt to let me know he would like me to say their names.
“Uh?” “That’s mommy!” I said.
“Uh?” “That’s daddy!”
“Uh?” “That’s your Nana!”
And then it happened: “Uh?” “That’s your uncle Nick!”
It is amazing how quickly our bodies can respond to certain stimuli. It took just fractions of a second before my eyes were flooded with tears, and so were Abby’s, and so were Aileen’s. Just one little answer to one little question and we were instantly weeping.
Finnegan will never meet his uncle Nick. He will only ever know him by photos on an iPad, only by fading reminiscences of those who knew him, only as a dark shadow of sorrow in the lives of his mother, aunts, and grandparents—a name that can instantly cause eyes to fill with tears. Uncle Nick will be as mysterious to Finn as my Aunt Nancy was to me, a figure who seems more mythological than real, more fictional than genuine. And how could it be otherwise?
We are thankful that grief moments and grief days have become less frequent than they were just a few short years ago. We are thankful that they are no longer triggered quite so often or quite so easily. But we also know they will be part of our experience to the end, that having lost someone we love as much as a son and a brother will never cease to hurt and never cease to grieve.
Yet we also believe the day will come when Christ will make all things new and make all things right. On that day, tears will give way to joy, grief will give way to glory, and separation will give way to reunion—to greetings, to hugs, to the greatest of all celebrations. And even now we pray that Finn will be like his uncle Nick—a boy, and then a man, who repents of his sin and who trusts in Jesus. We pray that he will be there with us in that great day, so he can worship his Savior side-by-side with the uncle he will finally meet, finally know, and finally love.
