Closure

I think it's interesting when people use the word "closure" in regard to grief and death.  Closure is defined as finality.  But life doesn't begin with birth and it certainly doesn't end at death.  Death is not final.  And I think there's nothing final about grief, either.

You can't rush to the end of grief and find "closure."  You have to live out the hard parts.  You have to let it change you and mold you into the new you that you are meant to be.  I find myself fighting this concept often.  I don't want a new me.  I want the old me.  The one who held William everyday.  And I can't quite let go of that.  I'm not sure I want to.  But I'm finding a sort of beauty in grief, as well.  A deep-rooted longing for the Lord, for eternity, that I admit was not near so prevalent before.

"Our worst things are often our best things...there is a blessing concealed in the righteous man's crosses, losses, and sorrows.  The trials of the saint are a divine husbandry, by which he grows and brings forth abundant fruit." ~ C.H. Spurgeon

I've also found that there is a terrible, awful wisdom that I carry because I grieve William.  While others can only ponder the "what ifs," I am fully aware of them.  I know that today may be the last day, the only day, the only chance I get.  Today's memories may be all I'm left with when I reach the place that I can't make any more.

I know I've made many mistakes over these past years and months of grief.  Honestly, I've been so desperate to hold on to all things that had anything to do with William, that I held on much too tightly in some cases.  It's time to let go, to let others go on with their lives, to not hang onto relationships solely because of William.  Don't get me wrong...I am still and will always be grateful for those who remember him and cherish him as I do.  I appreciate those friends who continue to grieve with me.  I have a deep love for those who are running to us to share in our sorrows (and our joys).  But I don't feel bound to it anymore.  I don't feel the need to pursue heavily those he loved.  I'll just rest in joy with those who love me.

I don't expect to find closure.  I don't even want it.  I want to feel my grief.  It's become an odd sort of friend to me, reminding me of my love for that precious son who has flown home.  And I know that though William has passed, he is not gone.  He has simply run ahead to the land of the living while I remain here in the land of the dying*.  Praise the Lord, through Christ's work, I will join him one day!

*I did not come up with this thought.  I saw the sentiment on a bereaved parents site.  I wish I had written it down to attribute it to someone, but it stuck with me.