A Passage Towards Faith, Part 4 of 4
by: Jon Crane

Saturday Ramblins, Vol. 1, No. 14 (August 15, 1998)

Ed note: At the end of "Passages," PapaJon is both at the beginning and at the completion of life's ongoing circle. The first installment ended with Jon noting his realization that accepting God's help is where comfort and healing begin. In this final installment, Jon acknowledges he's learned little about grief but a great deal about faith. As Jon's life goes on, he proceeds with the certain knowledge that God is the answer to all his questions. J.A.

When I began this series on faith and grief, I picked the number "four" (for four parts) out of the air. Writing the first part back in May, I had no idea where I'd be by late summer. I have to admit now, some four months after Lana's death, when it comes to grieving, I'm not much further down the road then I was back when I started this series. It seems for every inch or two I gain, something happens and I lose a foot.

I've written about the pain and struggles with faith. I've written about some of the stages of grief. I've written about Lana herself. I wish, dear reader, that I could now conclude this series with some telling insights into the grieving process. But I can't for I've learned one thing and one thing only: I know nothing about grief.

There is irony here. You see, I thought I knew everything. After all, I lost my father 13 years ago. Just over a year ago I lost a daughter–foster daughter, actually, but no less loved and cherished than my own girls. And I work in the funeral business. I see and deal with the grief of others on an almost daily basis. Physician, heal thyself. I can't.

There have been a few other insights--for example, grief hurts. It's an emotional pain of indescribable proportions and with physical repercussions. C. S. Lewis, writing of his own grieving process when his wife died after a brief marriage, likened it to staying awake all night with a toothache. You're aware of the pain and you're aware of staying awake all night.

The pain may cause loss of appetite, sleep and a general malaise after awhile — you quit caring about things, especially appearance. It's a very easy thing to succumb to.

So, while I learned little about grief nor how to deal with it, I did learn a great deal about faith. At first I bordered on despair. I felt abandoned by God, by Lana, by anything or anyone that could offer the least bit of comfort. I felt hopeless. There initially seemed to be no hope.

As I've written in these pages before, I wanted answers. I wanted to know why this wonderful person had been taken from me, taken from her children. But God is not required to give out the particulars no matter how much we expect or demand. I suggested in an earlier installment, there are no answers to many of the things that occur in our life because God wants us to know He is the answer.

I've begun to accept that: God, is the answer. How will I ever get through the rest of my life without Lana? God, is the answer. Who will take pain away? God, is the answer. Who will take away the loneliness and emptiness I still feel? God, is the answer. God is the answer.

Lana wrote me a letter before she died that took three and a half months to get to me. That was part of God's wisdom, too. If I had read that letter in the days or even weeks immediately following her death, it would have been too painful and I might have destroyed it. It was a beautiful and loving letter and it's words will sustain me for years to come. She asked me something — something I will share with you because it might be a help to others who've lost someone dear.

Lana, knowing she didn't have long to live, used the analogy of a pregnant woman who "eats for two." She asked me to do something similar--to live for two. "Live life to the fullest," she asked me, "and say, 'I'm doing it for two.' " For her. For me. And I will for I'm learning that with the help of God, there is nothing in this world I cannot get through.

While I don't know where my life is going from this point, I know if I let it to return to the existence I lived before Lana, it devalues what we had. It makes her just an episode in my life. She was, and is, so much more than that. So, it's on to a new adventure. With Lana's presence always within me and God's eternal guidance, I can live and be happy. For two. Forever.

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