Making Sense of my Grief: Never Again

Never again will we eat an ice cream cone together.

Never again will you hold my hand.

Never again will we listen to music in awe.

Never again will we wrestle with a problem called life.

Never again will you plant kisses in my neck.

Never again will we lift glasses of champagne to our toast: “Lavita” (to life).

Never again will the sound of your guitar fill this house.

Never again will I come looking for you in Exclusive Books.

Never again will you call me outside to come and look at a star through your telescope.

Never again will I cut the onions when you cook.

Never again will you laugh at my jokes and call me your “Funny girl”.

Never again will we sit around the table and have a meal together with our children.

Never again will I call out to you: “Honey, I’m home.”

Never again will I sit in at a training session and marvel at your wisdom.

Never again will we laugh the loudest in the movie theatre.

Never again will we divide the prawns equally in their garlic cheese sauce at the Spur.

Never again will we read a paragraph from a book aloud to each other.

Never again will we play Scrabble.

Never again will you ask if I want a cup of coffee.

Never again will Friday be our pizza and movie night.

Never again will you hold me for a one-minute-hug.

Never again will we listen to the Messiah from Handel on a Sunday morning before church.

Never again will I buy you a newspaper and a chocolate.

Never again will I proofread a document for you.

Never again will we have tea on the stoep in the winter sun.

Never again will we use communion together.

Never again will we dream about one day…

Never again will we walk on the promenade at Sea Point on a Sunday afternoon and tell each other how privileged we are to live in Cape Town.

Never again will we reason about our different opinions and end up deciding that you are looking at the front of the chair and I am looking at the back of it. Together we see the whole chair.

Never again will you tell me about a problem and I will pray aloud: “Lord, you hear this conversation. We bring this problem to you because we do not have a human solution.”

Never again will I believe that I can control anything but my own choices.

Yes Lord, this problem of death is unsolvable. When I get to the end of me so often in a day, I can only ask for Your grace for the pain I face. In his book ‘A Grief Observed’ CS Lewis writes: “I had my own notion of grief. I thought it was the sad time that followed the death of someone you love. But I’m learning there is no other side. There is no pushing through. But rather, there is absorption. Adjustment. Acceptance. And grief is not something you complete, but rather, you endure. Grief is not a task to finish and move on, but an element of yourself – an alteration of your being. A new way of seeing. A new definition of self.”

Ps 139:7-12 “Where can I go from Your Spirit? Or where can I flee from Your presence? If I ascend into heaven, You are there; If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, Even there Your hand shall lead me, and Your right hand shall hold me. If I say “Surely the darkness shall fall on me,” even the night shall be light about me; Indeed, the darkness shall not hide from You, but the night shines as the day. The darkness and the light are both alike to You.”

You, my God, again, once more, for evermore, is my safe space. Ps 46:5 “God is in the center of her. She will not be moved. God will help her when the morning comes.”