A messenger comes to the village at Ziklag and tells David that there has been a battle and Saul and Jonathon are dead. Now David faces a new giant: grief.
Lucado writes of taking your time with grief. In our culture, we hurry grief. We give grieving families a week to hold a funeral and clean out a room, then the person returns to school or work, and carries on with their life. In other cultures, official periods of mourning can last a year.
In my own life, I have experienced grief, but never an overwhelming grief. All four of my grandparents have passed, but they were all elderly and their deaths were relatively expected. My mother passed after a two year battle with cancer. We all knew she would die, as did she. As a result, the sting of her death was lessened by the time we had to prepare for it.
My daughter has experienced many medical challenges, some of which could be fatal. But, so far she has always been fine. I have had to assume that she will be fine, or else I would not be able to continue daily. Even as she battles brain cancer, we continuously meet other families whose children are much weaker than Catherine. We have seen cancer ravage some of these little bodies. We have met people whose children succumbed to cancer. Perhaps it is an inappropriate reaction, but I am always grateful that my child is doing as well as she is. When I learn of children who have died of cancer (and we hear of one in Atlanta about once a week), I am relieved it is not my child. I hope that I will never have to experience the grief of the loss of a child. I truly cannot relate to those who have. I still hold my daughter and think how horrible it would be if I couldn't hold her anymore. If this were the last time I could hold her.