Today I went to a memorial service for a 15-year-old. A group of teenagers, with a chaperone, were driving to Mammoth for ski week. One of the cars rolled and the 15- year-old was thrown out.
The dad who was driving the lead car turned around, got out of the car and made his way to the teenager just before he passed away. He had a chance to hold his hand as he died.
From the moment I stepped my foot out of the car and onto the church parking lot, tears welled up in my eyes. For the next two hours my tears would ebb and flow. But my grief was nothing compared to that of his parents and siblings.
At the start of the Memorial Service, the family walked in together. One of the most moving sights I have ever seen was the mother walking down the aisle to get to her seat. There were two men, one of them her husband, on either side of her. She was weeping and almost couldn't make her way down the aisle. She looked as though she wanted to crumble into a heap onto the floor.
The grief of a mother. What other anguish is worse than losing your child? I am hard pressed to come up with a worse nightmare.
I find myself drawing a parallel to God the Father. Since we are in His image, I wonder if this mother's grief is a glimpse into the grief of God as He watched His own Son suffer and die. I think that I have pictured God as grieving over His Son, but in a stoic, controlled manner. What does pure, holy grief look like? I'm not exactly sure, but I think I saw a glimpse of it today on the face of a mother.
