Every lament is a love song.

“I close my eyes, and I see your face. If home’s where my heart is, then I’m out of place. Lord, won’t you give me strength to make it through somehow? I’ve never been more homesick than now. “

“Memories surround me but sadness has found me, I’d give anything for more time. Never before has someone meant more, and I can’t get you out of my mind.”

Grief is a funny thing. When we lose a loved one, a family member or a friend or even a beloved pet, it’s like a suckerpunch to the stomach. Loss hurts when we expect it, but it also throbs when it blindsides us. It aches deep within when it’s a young life, when you’re left with the “Why him? He was so young and held so much promise. Why her? She had such a passion for Christ!” It throbs when it’s an older person, as you look at all they’ve accomplished in life and you’re left with just your memories, treasuring each one but yet longing for more.

It’s funny, because from the moment you get the phone call that they’re gone, from the moment you get the email, the text, the Facebook message, your heart stops. Everything, for that moment, end. And you’re plagued with regret. For one friendship you regret falling out of touch even though many times you felt the tug to get back in contact. For another one, you’re plagued by the text message and Facebook argument that was never resolved and you completely fell out. It doesn’t change the pain and anger from a life loss, and the flood of memories from the good times.

The different types of grief are difficult. The fresh, raw grief that is like a sudden sharp knife, and the dull, aching grief that remains once the initial wave has worn off. No matter how you slice it, it sucks and it hurts.

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