In my own experience there was a barrage of emotions that confronted me in the wake of the loss of my mother. There were good days, when I felt like I had a pretty good grip on things, a firm hope in seeing my Mom again, and an optimistic outlook for the future. There were also days that were not so good... when I missed her so much, when it seemed so unfair, and when there were things I wanted so much to share with her. I kept reminding myself that life isn't designed to be unfair -- especially if you claim to be a Christian. The Atonement was a dreadfully unfair outcome, even though it was a voluntary deed. (could you honestly claim otherwise of the sort of justice where the party least deserving of punishment received the bulk of it?)
In time, you'll find you're made of strong enough material to regain a forward leaning stance in your life - especially if the one you loved taught you as well as my Mother did. She left all of her children, and grandchildren (including those yet unborn) with a wonderful legacy.
Once, years ago, my Mom told me she thought I'd never become an Eagle Scout - that she was giving up on trying. She had tried hard to nudge me in that direction without much success. She probably said it more out of frustration than anything else, and to be honest (albeit in retrospect), I couldn't blame her. I don't know whether or not she realized it at the time, but that gave me twice as much drive just to prove her wrong (not the highest motive, I know... but it got the job done in time!). I asked her later about that, she claimed it was her honest belief, that she wasn't just trying reverse psychology. Either way, I made Eagle Scout.
In losing her to cancer, it feels like the gauntlet was thrown down again -- almost like fate was sneering at me. A man wizened through his own adverse experience said of his own determination. "I will take fate by the throat; it will never bend me completely to its will." Beethoven penned those words in a letter, and if Ludwig Beethoven could produce timeless music even when deaf, then there's music of my own, yet to be written, on the untouched pages in my own life.
To conclude on a hopeful note, I'll share the words of Robert Browning:
GROW old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in his hand
Who saith, “A whole I planned
Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!”
Then, welcome each rebuff
That turns earth’s smoothness rough,
Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go!
Be our joys three-parts pain!
Strive, and hold cheap the strain;
Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe!
For thence,—a paradox
Which comforts while it mocks,—
Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail:
What I aspired to be,
And was not, comforts me:
A brute I might have been, but would not sink i’ the scale.
And I shall thereupon
Take rest, ere I be gone
Once more on my adventure brave and new:
Fearless and unperplexed,
When I wage battle next,
What weapons to select, what armor to indue.
So, take and use Thy work:
Amend what flaws may lurk,
What strain o’ the stuff, what warpings past the aim!
My times be in Thy hand!
Perfect the cup as planned!
Let age approve of youth, and death complete the same!
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