we were made to meet our maker

Sometimes I wonder how people who aren't believers handle things like death and grief.

Connor succumbed to his cancer late last night. As a believer, I have an unwavering faith in heaven and in things unseen. I have been given a hope that just as Christ died and was raised to life, that Connor has been raised to life, too.

But I've come to see that grief is not a concrete experience. It's not bad and then better. It's a fluid experience, one that takes different shapes and forms, one that has moments of intense rejoicing for a race finished and a reward received, and one that has heart-wrenchingly selfish moments of wishing he were here anyway.

I'm thankful that God is close to the broken-hearted.

My hope is found in nothing less.