Cemetery Tears

The other day I needed a long walk.  I needed to cry - not just little cry - but the Booo-hoooos that win Academy awards.  And so I put on my sweatpants and Nike's and walked... to the cemetery.  The giant closed gates nor the passing people stopped me from the wailing that need to take place.  I let everyone who passed make up their own story about me: was I weeping over my young husband's death?  The death of my dear mother?
I was weeping over death... hurt, anger, fear, misunderstanding, pain...
I wept.
I wept with my head wedged between to bars, gripping on for life until the tears calmed themselves.  And what had happened... the yuckiness that had taken place didn't suddenly make sense.  No one asked for forgiveness.  Nothing was restored or clarified or even made right.  What was made right was eternity.  I looked at those graves and thought "as much as this pains my soul it will not be for eternity."  This, too, was a light and momentary trouble.  
Earlier that day I almost changed my Facebook status to "The only good thing about today is that it's one day closer to when Jesus will return."
But the truth is - that's the real truth of every day.  Even the very best ones on earth.


RosieBoo said…
Sometimes that's why we call it a "good cry"

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