All seasons have their end. Farewells, good byes, and ends of times do not come easily though they may come fast and without warning. And perhaps not all conclusions are marred with grief. But, whether because the pain makes them seem stronger or there are more that are this way, the ones with pain so often scream louder.
It’s easier to close the book on the happy note than it is when the very words weep. It is not that hope has died or that the mourner believes this moment is the worst. Sometimes it is simply recognizing, appreciating, feeling the end and crying for what will no longer be. Crying for what might have been. Crying for all those possibilities.
Sometimes the sadness is there simply because what has ended was loved. A season has concluded. And when the new one opens, it may bring wonders anew and laughter that consoles the pain.
Doors close every day just as new ones open. But sometimes you’re in a hall, and you know the door is ahead, but you have no idea what it will open upon or even when. And sometimes it may not open for quite awhile though you hear the clicks and bangs of doors in other halls swinging wide. What matters is that one day the doors will open again, and this limbo of untetheredness may yet pass along with heartbreak and pain.
Is it wrong to weep or sob or grind your teeth in anger? When that which is good must pass away and the dreams you hold slip through your fingers, it would be stranger if you shed no tears even with your faith to hold you strong.
For just as seasons have their end, so too do they have their beginnings. And though the pain may swell and the agony endures, you know deep within that it will not always be this way. It cannot. It will not. It shall not. It won’t.
Mourning does not deny the joy that may yet come. When you mourn, your heart cries over the pain that has come and sometimes for the future ripped from hopeful hands.
It may not be as you envisioned. And if you cannot see now what the future holds as all you see is through a glass darkly, then that is where you believe and hope despite not knowing. The future and all of life cannot be taken in a single stride. Sometimes you can barely hold the heartbeat of a moment.
At times like these, your beliefs may seem stale and flavorless, cheap bread set out on a windowsill, unwanted even by the starlings and the grackles. You hold them close or sometimes loosely in the wellspring of your heart, not knowing, not understanding because sometimes the monotony of the pain and of the sorrow feels like it’s too much.
But in your heart you know…know what is true. This season ends, the doors are closed, but it will all begin anew. And this new season is not cursed, these new doors are not bolted. Different perhaps and possibly not precisely as you hope. Perhaps more, perhaps better. There is always that. But more importantly that which roots you, grounds you, anchors you will keep you from despair.
For now though, loose your tears and weep. You don’t have to be forever strong. And in the quiet of the hall, where all is locked and shut away, you are free to grieve so that when the doors swing open and light pours through, you can walk into that new day.
Even tragedies, grief, and pain come in seasons that must one day end. And if you need to sit and cry, then do. But know it shall not always be this way.
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