Loss is a strange thing. People had always told me that loosing a loved one bears a great deal of helpless pain. I believed them, but I never realized the dreaded horror of the subject until I had to experience this helpless pain myself. For anyone who has experienced a pain such as this, you know the feeling I am talking about. If you have not experienced this feeling of loss yet, you can almost never imagine it. The loss of a loved one is a strange sensation of the sinking of ones heart. The feeling one may experience when walking on ground piled with snow. Every step is ever so wary, ever so careful. Then there’s the plummet. Your leg falls through the icy, numbing snow, and for a second you feel a moment of morbid panic. That very moment of distress. That very moment of austere shock. That half moment of desperately attempting to set your trapped foot free before the ice breaks through your boot, and that other half moment of the realization that there is nothing that you can do. Loss is that sickly moment, with its two horrid halves, elongated.

That feeling of desperate readjustment, and of sheer panic knowing that all you can do is sit there and witness someone you love be taken from you by the grasp of death.This sinking feeling was something beyond the realms of my understanding until the evening of September 1, 2017. It was the day I thought I would never again be able to collect all the pieces of my broken heart, the day when I felt the world around me coming crashing to the earth below me, the day that I had been dreading since I was a little girl, the day that my granddaddy, my best friend, peacefully walked through the gates of heaven.

He had fallen a few days before. That’s all it was, just a fall. He was going to be okay; he was going to make it through this. I just knew that he was going to get up out of that hospitable bed in a few days and walk out, laughing about the whole situation. At the time, I could have sworn that this was the case. Looking back, I can see that this was more of a desperate plea to stop the impending heartache that I knew would soon come my way. As I held his hand and watched his heart rate slowly fall, it became harder and harder for me to breathe. Everyone was saying goodbye and I just couldn’t. I kept saying to myself, “Not yet granddaddy, I’m not ready. I can’t let go. You are going to be okay.” I kept believing and grasping at the false truth that the grip of his hand may tighten around mine and he would hold my hand once more. But this wishful reality never came true. Soon enough, his heart stopped beating and he took his last breath.

I knew that as I was yelling in my head for him to come back, he was opening his eyes to gaze upon Jesus’ face. I knew that he was no longer struggling to breathe. I knew that he no longer had Altimerzers, the disease that ate away his brain. I knew that he now had a new body, one that he could walk with and run like he was a young boy again. I knew that he was no longer in any sort of pain. I knew that he was happy as he now gets to sing praises to Jesus’ name for the rest of eternity. But what I didn’t know was how I was supposed to just carry on with my life. I didn’t know how I was going to be able to be happy without him here. Before this day, death has been a mystery to me, an unknown foreign idea that only happened to others.

Yet, no matter the dread, there is always hope. I have been trying to figure out a way to overcome and conquer death, but I do not have to. That battle has already been won, death has already been defeated. I have been learning that death does not have the last word; Jesus does. There is hope because of my Jesus. Death has no hold on me, and the grave has no power. Because of Jesus, there is hope that one day I will be reunited with my granddaddy. One day, when I hold his hand, he will hold mine back, just like I so desired as he laid on his deathbed. One day I will hear him sing “Amazing Grace” once again, except, we will be worshiping right at Jesus’ feet. One day, I will get to hear him say my name in his strong southern accent again. One day, I will get to witness his sweet granddaddy's grin. And one day soon, we will dance together down the streets of heaven, praising the one who my hope is in for eternity.

Eventually, that unforgiving, cold snow that has engulfed your leg will melt. Eventually, that sun will shine again and you will be able to walk on, but you will always know and remember that helpless entrapment, that momentary feeling of sheer panic when your foot slipped through the sleek snow. This will teach you to be careful where you step, and to step with a purpose in mind. To live with a purpose. This will teach you that life is fleeting. People are here one moment, then gone the next. So live your life as if it were reflecting Jesus’ face. Love without end, extend grace without hesitation, and peruse Christ with all you have. Though life may be fleeting, Jesus is unchanging and He is steadfast. Place your hope in Him and rest knowing that He is good.