Grief Sanctuary

A quiet Hebrew cemetery a 3-minute walk from my front door has offered me solace and comfort. A sense of solidarity is found when I can mourn where many have stood or fallen and wept over loved ones on this same sanctuary ground throughout the century past.

Words etched in stone there possess meaning for me.

‘In the midst of life we are in death’

‘O, what is life since death so soon o’ertake; Our best beloved and sweet communion breaks?’

‘How desolate our home bereft of thee’


But with the grief, hope is no second runner. My favorite is here.

‘Say not good-night,
but in some brighter clime bid me good morning’

This is how, God willing, I want to greet ones we’ve lost.

This cemetery testifies beyond the grave words I long for…
How I desire this yes, for myself,
but even more so for my descendants.

‘In life, a prince of charity, the orphan’s rock and pious guide;
in death, in all eternity, a son of God and man’s true prize.’

I’ve struggled with these losses. But I am thankful for them.
The depth of my person is paradoxically richer in this poverty.
My God who cries has had me as companion, and I have had him.
It is not a child for whom I wait,
Though days of late might have me wonder if I could weep forever.
The child-etcher, the one who creates within his own creation,
whose fingerprints I bear and will also recognize on those I bear;

It is he I wait continually for, as he also waits for me.