It is not a beautiful memory, not something that you wish to harbor in your mind. I wish I could pay a price to get it erased, to have it deleted permanently. But no matter how determine or how faithful you press the delete button, it will come back with even stronger force. Ruthless. Brute. In-exterminable.
It is not death that breaks your heart into pieces, it is not so much the separation, but all the pains and sufferings leading to it. When the fallen world exerts its forces upon finite beings, when health deteriorates, when breathing becomes a pain, when sleeping becomes a toil and when all your organs work against you, that’s what unbearable and sickeningly suffocating.
I don’t think any of us is designed to handle that, not even the strongest and most iron-hearted of us. I don’t think the heart of flesh possesses any capacity to see, observe and feel the pain, especially if it is your beloved. Watching is excruciating, and without you being able to do anything about it, is even more excruciating. It is beyond excruciating. Don’t you now wish that you are given a heart of stone instead?
I try and try to imagine how God faces this kind of stuff. It’s too painful for me to handle, and this is just a one single event of my life. How could God face the reality of pain every second? If we humans could be so troubled and disturbed by the pain of our beloved, what’s more of God who sees his children suffer every second? What does he feel when he sees his children desperately crying out for help? I assume the pain he feels is unspeakable, and probably the temptation to extend his hands is unmatched by ours, but probably he understands more that love is not equal to kindness, that sometimes love involves pain, even the most seemingly despicable pain.
I wish it could be that easy, I wish.
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