VI. Goodbye Ghosts—in, “Give us this day our daily … Pearls.”

“There is no fireside that does not have an empty chair.”

—Old Spanish Proverb

From a sound sleep, I am awakened by laughter. I hear my four favorite ghosts playing cards in the kitchen. They represent a family’s humor, courage, strength and freedom.

“What day is it,” I rub my eyes. It is Dad’s birthday—do I make a cake? The clock is flashing angry red 12:00’s again. The snowstorm must have weighted down a limb on a power line. With the flashing, obviously, the power is back. I might as well get up and reset the clocks. Then it dawns on me — are they protecting me in outages?

As a child, I thought heaven was a glorious golden city of angels. When my brother died, heaven became angels + my brother.
As older family friends died, heaven grew. But when my child left, I began to read about heaven. Over time, I know more dead than living.
Now I think heaven is not a place, but when holy souls all live in love. —Unknown

“Whose turn was it to bring cigars?” asks Andrew.

What would eye contact feel like, again? At least being here, they comfort my grief.

“Still smoking them cancer sticks?” asked Jim as he hands one over. I wonder what he thinks about his earthly children. Some of them are adults with their own kids. His youngest ones do not even remember him.

“Hey Jim. When are you going to learn how to swim?’’ asks Joe. I miss his goofy cowlick. Life is so fragile. I no longer ask God why. I ask—how?

“Earth is crammed with heaven” —Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Jim laughs, “I will when you retake your remedial basic motorcycle course.”

Joe grinned. “I was doing my David and Goliath imitation.”

Andrew chimed in, "I know the feeling. I tried to uproot a mulberry tree and toss it into the sea. Only I mistook mulberry for oak.” [Luke 17:6]

Once again, I wedged a chair between my dad and son. Feeling like a dust sandwich, I want to listen and learn. No alcohol tonight. I am sober now—why? In math, like-terms cancel each other out. However, fueling depression with a depressant is a tetration. Some pharmaceuticals fog us into a false sense of security while layering guilt and prolonging denial. No more fugue states, the pity-parties are over. Grief will not transform into holiness unless I let it.

Case in point—a woman sought spiritual direction for grief counseling. The priest asked her to bring him a handful of mustard seeds, from church members who never lost someone close. Crossing off all friends and family, it forced her to ask new faces at church. Over time, her grief was transformed into a sense of solidarity and compassion while building a new support system.

Time alone, doesn’t heal all wounds. It’s what we do with time that matters.

True grieving is hard work. Yet, rejecting God’s will is emotionally draining. Fighting God cannot bring happiness. Grief is not a problem—it’s a gift—a chance to grow in holiness. If we really truly believe our faith, we WILL see our loved ones again. Do our coping problems affect their ability to be happy? Or does it hurt to see us wallowing? Facing grief head-on is the process of going through, not detouring painful memories and feelings.

“The first glorious mystery, the Resurrection,” interrupts Dad, lifting not 50+cards but 50+beads onto the table from his lap. I look at his winnings—as they transformed into family photos. Zooming out of my selfish stupor, they weren’t playing cards for winnings. They were praying, beads for souls. It was I who heard and rationalized what I wanted. A switch flipped as grief turned to grace. Tearful face in hands, I whispered ... …

“Lord, bend my will & take Your boys, I gift You all this grief.
Redeem the suffering we have borne--to shower their relief.
Either take them home or purify souls—but please Lord, make it brief?’’

Patiently, God had waited for her surrender while she wandered in the desert—a lonely limbo--a cramped cocoon. Was poker a “bargaining” stage? Or was it a cleanse, a slow transfiguration of God’s promises?

Heaven does not erase families; it honors them. She was being a selfish hypocrite. She needed to elevate them—not use them to elevate her grief. They rose from the table, hugging their prayers and photos, to bring to the King. She closed her eyes, imagining them purifying-in-hope or better, crowned on heavenly thrones.

She smiled. She would see them again, God willing. The family breakfasts—and perhaps poker—would resume at the “Eternal Banquet.”

Prayer for Acceptance

Forced to play our earthly game, do we alter joy, their heavenly gain?
Why keep them here, all chained and bound; when God and angels hold their crown?
We have no power over them, yet in our grief, are they condemned?
Each holy soul in grace to rise; belongs with God in paradise!

Through trusting You, the holy One; our kitchen altars shine with sun.
With rosary beads and prayers all night; acceptance will fold into light.
Transfigured at the break of dawn, our grief, once heavy, will move on.
Their souls released, no more on loan; now best enjoy their heav’nly throne!

* * *

Click on the link below for the next chapter. Thanks for stopping by. Hugs!

I. Ghosts—in, “Give us this day our daily … Pearls.“ Family grief explored

II. Humor—in, “Give us this day our daily … Pearls.” Brotherly grief explored

III. Courage—in, “Give us this day our daily … Pearls.” In-Law grief explored

IV. Strength—in, “Give us this day our daily … Pearls.” Paternal grief explored

V. Freedom—in, “Give us this day our daily … Pearls.” Grief of a child explored

VI. Goodbye Ghosts—in, “Give us this day our daily … Pearls.”