"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven...a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn..." Ecclesiastes 3:1,4
My dad called me on Thursday afternoon. I was swamped and couldn't answer. I called back. His voice was a little shaky, "Your Grandma died just a little bit ago."
As a cop I've learned to cope with the horridness of life by shoving emotions to the deep recesses of my mind. This weekend has been no different. The busiest time of the year for the police. It's Derby in Louisville...no time to pause...no time to stop to ponder what is reality...so much to do...information to gather...tv shows to prep for...information to release...people to meet...people to greet...a job to do. Friends offer condolence. I politely say “thank you.”
Finally this morning I have time to pause.
Head buried deep in my hands. I finally weep.
While the hope of heaven grants me peace, the Bible says "there is a time to mourn."
And in the quietness of a Sunday morning, I mourn.
As I release the hurt with the flow of tears I cannot help but merge them with tears of joy, giving thanks that the dementia no longer has control. That your mind is now right. That you recognize your loved ones once again. And that the first face you immediately recognized, the first face you reached out to touch - was the face of Jesus Christ.
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