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THE CLOUDS MOVE-BUT SLOWLY (grief)

I heard her talking about it on the radio. A thoughtful young lady, to be sure. She was discussing her grief - the grief of losing her husband after only two years of marriage. He was a policeman. She knew the dangers he faced, but was proud that he truly cared about people and wanted to serve them.

The emergency call came at two in the morning. He hurriedly dressed and left the house - a house to which he would not return. For the young widow there was shock and unbelief, followed by dark overhanging clouds of grief. Well-meaning friends pointed out that she was young and attractive, and would quickly find another husband.

How little they understood. They told her she would be over it in a year. They were wrong once again. The clouds of grief do not move in and out as quickly as a summer storm. They move - but slowly. In her case it took four and one-half years for them to pass over; and at times they still return.

She discovered by working with other widows that the younger ones take longer to recover than those who are older. Why? Her assessment is that few, if any, of the younger widows’ dreams have been fulfilled. They have no children, no grandchildren, no great lists of accomplishments, yet friends are constantly urging them to ’get over it.’

We live in a world where we are always going from one thing to another without stopping - even if it involves the death of a loved one. In the days of my youth we permitted widows to wear black veils for six months to a year, and men worn black arm bands (President Franklin Roosevelt wore one in public after the death of his mother). People were allowed to grieve, and to show their grief publicly.

There is a time to weep, and a time to mourn, my Bible tells me. Maybe, just maybe, we ought to let people do it. - John Gipson

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