MAKING SENSE OF MY GRIEF: Star gazer

Making sense of my grief:  Star gazer

I bought you a telescope for your 50th birthday and lost you to the stars. The scientist in you was fascinated. On weekends you would respectfully wait until we finished dinner, give me a quick kiss and take your telescope out in the garden for three hours a night. You did a drawing project one December, tracing the location of 100 well-known stars and planets.

Depression made you a navel gazer. You lost your vision for life. Proverbs 29:18 “Where there is no vision, the people perish.” You often felt adrift – searching for a reason to live. You lost yourself and your direction. The planets and stars lost their lustre as you lost yours. Your telescope stood alone in a corner.

At 11am on Saturday you still sent an email to a friend expressing your excitement to work on a new course in pastoral care, focusing on Covid-19. You had such an intense longing to be with God – for the disconnect between you and Him to be restored. You could not wait any longer for your expiry date to arrive. Only a few hours later, in your despair, in the ever-present dark night of your soul, you did not utter a cry for help. You drew a line in the sand and said: it stops here today. I refuse to be lost anymore. I am going to my home in heaven. And so you did.

Your life is not diminished by your manner of death. You have drawn a stardust map in the sky for the rest of us to see you shining brightly. You were so lost. Now you are found in the bosom of your Saviour. I am so glad for you. I sense your radiant joy beaming down on me here on earth. Your GPS tracker indicates the location of your soul as “home”. Home is where the heart is. Home is with Papa God.

Daniel 12:3 “Those who are wise will shine like the brightness of the heavens, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars for ever and ever.”  My wise guy. Your funny girl has now become a star gazer. I see the star of your life shining brightly, inviting all of us to look up and glorify God for a life that mattered. I look up as I hold onto God. I see you, my stargazer.

Annette de la Porte

 

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