Four years ago when I lost my husband, I used to think it would have been better if he had died as opposed to leaving by choice. I thought at least then, perhaps I would still be able to know that I was loved and cared for until the end. But instead not only was he gone, he also didn't care. I not only suffered loss, but rejection as well.
Although I feel like I have accepted my reality, some days it still grieves my heart. I remember in the beginning I wished that I could just have at least one day where I didn't think about what had happened. I have many of those days now. But it has still changed me. The experience has shaped who I am and will always be a part of me.
It's interesting, though because we tend to think we know so much about what would be better or what would be worse. There is a blog that I like to follow, written by a man who lost his wife and child in a tragic car accident earlier this year. The thing I like about the blog is the honesty of emotion. And I realize with each post that I read... it's not easier. She is still gone. He is still left alone in a house full of memories as God shapes his new reality as well.
Each story is unique. There's not one better. Not one worse. They're just... different. However, in the dot dot dot in between, there is the One, same Jesus. The One who is always there to care for the brokenhearted. The One who has come to make all things new. The One who will, one day, restore creation to its original state. One where there is no more pain. No more death. No more rejection and suffering. Praise be to the One who was wounded for our transgressions. The One who has special care for widows and orphans. The One, true God, our Lord, Jesus Christ.