The Fire

Coming off the lake the other day, we were witness to a cabin fire on an island on Lake of the Woods. The entire structure was gone, completely engulfed in flames. Not one timber was left standing; the cabin had been reduced to ash and rubble. It occurred to me what a fitting metaphor this is for grief. In one moment a structure full of memories, meaning, identity and security is utterly demolished. The existence of what you had confidence in is simply no longer there.

In the same way that a cabin can be rebuilt, we begin to rebuild our lives after such horrific loss. The new cabin will not be the same - it will be made with a different design and material. The burnt family mementos can't be replaced, new ones will have to be found. The lives we rebuild after loss will also not be the same, cannot possibly be. What was wiped out in one unbearable instant, cannot be brought back. Entire fragments of our identity annihilated. We piece together one part of ourselves at a time with altered priorities and personas. With God's help, we slowly build a new structure - a life that will hold joy and meaning. A life that we hope will honour the precious one we have lost.