Between Good Friday and Goodbye
A Tribute to My Aunt They say it is Good Friday. The day Jesus died. The day sorrow met sacrifice. The day heaven went silent before resurrection broke the grave. We rejoice because He rose on the third day. But this year, I found myself standing somewhere else. Between Good Friday… and goodbye. While the world remembered the cross, I was grieving my own loss. Yes, Jesus rose in three days. Yes, resurrection is our hope. Yes, death is not the end. But the resurrection I now wait for is not in three days’ time. It is a promise for eternity. And eternity feels far when your heart is breaking. Allow me to shed these tears. Allow me to sob without being told to “be strong.” Allow me to mourn without being hurried into celebration. Because grief has its own calendar. Memories are coming in flashes — moments I cannot fully articulate. I called on Mother’s Day, but I couldn’t reach you. I had a strange feeling. I had plans to rush home and see you. I prayed for you ...