The Problem with Death...

     Almost everything in life is tolerable because of one word. Hope. Even the worst scenarios--poverty, divorce, illness, a missing loved one--contain some element of hope, no matter how small.
     Except death. No hope.
     Some may argue there is hope in death--hope that the person went to Heaven and that we will meet again one day. While I have faith that this is true, it doesn't help the NOW--the current world/life we have to live day in and day out.
     With the death of a child and/or sudden traumatic death, which I have experienced when Alicia was killed, the order of things is upside down and inside out. There is no way to put it all in order, to make sense of it, or to hope that there must be a REASON for all this.
     Quite frankly, I don't care what the reason is right at this moment. Even if it's all part of the biggest and most fantastic plan that God has, I don't care.
     He made me have feelings, a heart, and most importantly a motherly instinct and bond with my children.  To expect me to just rest on the faith that I will see my oldest daughter again "one day" and that her horrific death at age 19 was "for a reason" is unfathomable. To put it another way, it's UNREASONABLE.
     Today I went somewhere that I hadn't been in many years. It is a place that holds a lot of memories for our family. Alicia used to go to this place frequently. It brought back thoughts and feelings and roused some very uncomfortable frustration (bordering on anger) inside of me to think that all these people have so much and are doing so much and Alicia got short-changed, to put it mildly.
     How do I cope with those feelings? Do I comfort myself by saying she's in an even BETTER place now and one day I will join her? No, that brings little comfort because it is too conflicting. I have my youngest daughter here who still needs me and I have a life here on earth that needs to be lived out. To yearn to join Alicia is not healthy or productive for me.
     The irony and the paradoxes I have to face each day is simply indescribable. One minute I see people smiling, laughing, enjoying a lovely Florida spring day (myself included) and the next minute I am at the cemetery, changing the flowers at my daughter's grave site.
     I can't even fully enjoy the memory of Alicia. Not only is everything upside down, inside out, but it's also sideways. I have to look at things and think about things in my peripheral only. The second I allow myself to look straight at a photo of Alicia or to really FEEL a memory, relive it, or to picture Alicia standing in front of me now, a feeling comes over me that is so huge and overpowering, I must immediately halt what I am doing. Don't look, don't think, don't remember or the tidal wave will pull you under.
     I can love her, miss her, have memories of her (shrouded in mist) but I am not allowed to really feel her deep in my heart and soul. Even as I type these words, I see that they don't even break the surface of describing the enormous emotion this is.
     Hopelessness. It's the closest word to this feeling. That's in addition to all the other feelings of grief. Hopelessness. That is the problem with death.

Love never fails?

Love evolves. But it never leaves. Love never dies; it just changes form.

Someone very wise once told me that everyone needs to learn to love on the soul level, without the physical. One soul loving another soul. It transcends time.

I ponder this very famous quote from the bible:

1 Corinthians 13
Love
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

It's beautiful. I don't understand it fully. But I think it's very moving.

I just get stuck on one line: Love never fails.

What about break ups? What about divorce? What about when friendships--or other relationships--end or become strained? What about death? Or the ultimate of all heartbreak, when love kills. Because love can be the death of us--literally and figuratively.

So then what is unconditional love? At what point are we to stop loving? Do we hide away from love for fear of being hurt?

The ultimate mystery. But not really a mystery. I think we know the answer on some level.