What is lost when someone we love dies? What is retained? And what is transformed? The subject of our love is now gone; and we are no longer the same, we are no longer ourselves in the same way that we had existed before, in the time when we were with the one that we love. That unique way in which we existed with them dies along with them. Memories remain; and hopes for the future—that we may exist with them again in another place. We can remember them; but this is not the same thing as being with them. We can imagine where they are now, in that other place, and speak to them in prayers; but this is different from when we shared time and space with the one we love.
When we are honest and true, relationship blossoms. Honesty opens the doors to our inner worlds where we can meet—you and I—and discover ourselves together. Without honesty there can be no relationship; dishonesty is a closed door. Relationship is a treasure therefore, a fragile and beautiful thing that depends upon truth. We are fortunate when we find and will allow a real relationship to develop, one that can plumb the depths of our beings and nourish our souls. What then happens to our relationship when one of us dies? I want to say it is merely transformed; I think this is certainly true in some sense. Because we still think of the one who has died, we still act on their behalf, wanting the best for them, and we still speak to them in prayer, we still relate towards them. However, they do not relate back towards us. So, in a very tangible sense death also kills our relationship. It is the third tragedy of death—the one we love has died, a significant and meaningful part of ourselves has died with them, and our relationship together has also died.
Relationships orient us in this world; death disorients us by bringing a sudden end to our relationship. We cannot keep what has been taken from us, as the threads that make up the fabric of our lives are cut and pulled apart, strand by strand. With the passage of time the old threads are removed, old relationships are no more, and are replaced with new ones. Truth, honesty and love weaves us into a new fabric daily, if we are willing. And we can become reoriented again. Certainly this is a blessing—new relationships. But the loss of the old ones is a curse. Honestly, I hate death, with every fiber of my being. And I have no power against it. In the next life I will better understand—this is promised us—but in this life I understand nearly nothing. It takes so much time and effort, love and honesty, to create a good relationship, sometimes it takes a lifetime, and in every case the relationship ends in death and destruction; this is such a waste. So much joy, so much meaning, so much love, all crumbling to dust in the end.
Prayerful Life 