The Grief Train

In its first round of attack, grief is more like a bullet train.  It races through the heart relentlessly, spreading pain, anger, grief, denial, and emotional debilitation in its various phases.   Remaining on a tight and frequent schedule, the bullet train of grief eventually decides to go elsewhere for amusement and is replaced by a less frequent, conventional train of grief.  Some who we love and lose are only passengers on a car; others are entire cars in and of themselves.  But, regardless of how much they add to the lasting train, it seems as we cycle through grief, all of these losses remain, linger, and build the train up from almost nothing in our younger years to something that can delay us for quite a long time as we wait at the railroad crossing.

As I watch pensively those who are older than me and who are serving as role models for how to age well with Light, I wonder how they bear the burden of the ever increasing loss of loved ones.  As the grief train accumulates more and more cars, does it ever become too much?  Does it overwhelm in the middle of the night?  On dates of significance?  On random notes?

Or, by necessity, does the grief train resort to a free ranging weight on the heart and spirit that, while heavy and dark, still allows for getting up every day?  Do the cars travel into the station, one at a time, considered only as isolated losses rather than a pervasive blanket of emptiness?

For me, at middle age, the grief train comes in moments, and mostly unpredictable ones.  The moments can fill my consciousness in an instant, bringing immediate burning tears to my eyes, making complete sentences an impossibility, and putting professional composure out of reach.  Sometimes, the train leaves as quickly as it arrived, allowing me to return to some semblance of normal behavior. Sometimes the train lingers.  Sometimes, I wonder how to live my remaining years never being able to see those that I've lost until...

While I love this beautiful place that God has created for us to live our lives, I can imagine a day when the grief train will have too many cars, be too much to bear. And, on that day, I can see that, despite the draw of this beautiful Earth, despite the many things left to do in serving a broken world, regardless of the many lessons still left to learn... I will turn the corner, and long to go from this wonderful home to Home.  
Because, much as I would like to say so, I am not yet... confident... and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord  (2 Corinthians 5:8)