When a Christian dies, it seems easy to make light of it—he’s gone home, we say; she’s in a better place; he’s with the Lord; she’ll never know pain or sadness again. All of that is true, but let us not minimize the loss to the hurting family left on earth.
A friend of mine lost her husband of six years this week. Two weeks ago, although he'd had a stroke, the diagnosis was that he’d fully recover. Three weeks ago, they had no idea that there was anything at all wrong with his body. And now—she’s alone. This afternoon, I came home to my husband—something this friend will never get to do again. He’ll never again tell her, “I love you.” She won’t have another chance to cook his favorite dinner or snuggle on the couch watching a movie. They’ll never have another date, another candle-light dinner, another Valentine’s day. He's gone—and now she must face the void of life without him—a life she'd planned to live with him. The house they dreamed of living in, she’ll have to unpack and settle into alone. The son they’ve doted on will not remember his father, and their daughter will never know him. She must give this baby birth without his hand to hold; her birthday, which is next month, will only serve to remind her that he will never celebrate another year. She'll never see his eyes light up when she enters the room; his voice will never again fall on her ears, telling her how beautiful she is. They’ll never sing another duet; they’ll never take another trip together. Every life decision is now hers to make alone.
We can try to minimize her loss by spiritualizing it. We can remind her that everyone dies, and that he's now more truly alive than he's ever been. But the reality is that she’s lost someone very, very dear to her heart: her life’s companion, her best friend. When she said, “till death do us part,” she never dreamed how soon that would come. And although the Lord will sustain her, and He will give her strength to go on, the reality is that she must go through the rest of her life (perhaps fifty, sixty, seventy more years!) without the person she always thought would be there with her.
Death is real, and it's final. It's unnatural, the result of sin in this world. Grief is okay. Before attempting to comfort someone after the loss of a loved one, think a minute about everything they’ve actually lost. Put yourself in the shoes of your grieving friend, and consider whether words like “he’s happier now” or “she isn’t hurting any more” will truly bring comfort to a grieving heart. There may be a time for these reminders; but these realities don’t change the weight of what is actually, fully, finally gone.
