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 —
not knowing you had already breathed your last.

Oh death, where is your sting?

And yet, even through trembling lips and swollen eyes, one truth refuses to move:

Jesus is still Lord.

That was your anthem.

No matter what happened —
“Jesus is Lord.”

Instead of an insult, you would say,
“Jesus is Lord over you.”

A woman who feared and served God wholeheartedly.
A fighter.
One of the trainers God used to shape me.
You corrected me.
You strengthened me.
You loved me like I was your own daughter.

It is hard to accept.
I cannot question God.
But I can admit that I am hurting.

I wish I could see you one last time.
I wish you had spoken to me.
I wish… I really said goodbye.

---

Wendy’s Reflection ✨

Good Friday reminds us that loss can look final — but it is not ultimate.

Still, faith does not cancel emotion.
Hope does not erase heartbreak.
Resurrection does not eliminate the sting of separation.

I am learning that it is okay to stand in the middle —
between belief and tears,
between promise and pain,
between Good Friday and goodbye.

And maybe that is where faith is most real.

Not when we are celebrating,
but when we are grieving and still whispering,
“Jesus is Lord.”

So today, I allow myself to mourn.
I allow myself to miss her.
I allow myself to wish for one more conversation.

But I also hold on to what she taught me:

No matter what —
Jesus is Lord.

And that confession will carry me
until resurrection morning.

— Wendy’s Diary 🤍