Following R C Sproul Jr's recent experience of intense grief, he reflects here how often, prior to one's beloved departing this mortal life, it is the adrenaline which keeps spouses going and (mostly) helps to keep the tears at bay; it's in the weeks, months and years afterwards that the unpredictable sobbing ensues. Here is how concludes:
It is now that I fear, now that I cry. Dates, places, even weather patterns take me back. A highway we took to her clinical trial, a restaurant I frequented when she was in the hospital, even the spot by the ping pong table where I stood when she told me, all do not merely remind me of the horror, but put me back in the midst of it, but now with no adrenaline... Time may be a river, but we are able to move within it, to swim with or against its current. Which is why we mourn with hope. Even now I am comforted, am at peace, indeed drink deep of a joy that is not behind but before me. For my momentary afflictions are not worthy to be compared with the eternal weight of glory (II Corinthians 4:17). Death indeed swallowed her up, but death is being swallowed in victory. Adrenaline is not my saviour. Jesus is.It's a moving post. Read the full thing here
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