Learning how to mourn

This is what I told myself this week when I learned of the passing of a friend of mine.

I want to cry.
Okay, you get three minutes.
I am so sad and confused.
Your three minutes are up.
Now stop it.
You don't need pity.
Get your act together.
It's time to study for your midterm, which is tomorrow.

But I want to cry.
I can't focus on studying.
Here's what you do:
Just store the sadness away for later.
Your schedule doesn't allow time for such things.
Trust me, it'll hit you later.
And when it does, you'll be ready for it.
Keywords: later, ready.

But I still want to cry.
Do you know why you say you WANT to cry, but you can't?

It's because you don't know how to be honest with your feelings.
You are so good at pretending to be strong.
You store up all your feelings, hoping to relieve them at the right time.

What happens when that time comes?

Today, I found out.

After the funeral service, I knew where I wanted to go. I sat under a beautiful tree in front of the northeast corner of Wheeler Hall. The tree has white blossoms. The white petals cascade gently down when blown by the wind. It makes me believe that the tree is crying. I remember first seeing this tree sometime last week, and thinking to myself, "I wish I could have a photo shoot on or around this tree with a fancy camera. It is too beautiful."

As I sat reading the book of Job, I was reminded of how God is still the same. Still good. Still merciful and loving.

I just sat. Immersed myself deeply with truth. The truth of sadness, heartache, and uncertainty. I mourned.

In the enveloping presence of the spirit, I felt the liberating lifting of burdens.

When I looked up some time later, I heard the shutter of a camera click. A stranger was standing across from me, taking a photograph after photograph of me reading God's word under a crying tree. He said, "I hope you don't mind. This is too beautiful."

I have to agree.