We were able to go to our favorite restaurant again this week. It has been closed for the last month because of an explosion that happened across the street that leveled an entire shopping center. The restaurant still has windows boarded up that were damaged from the blast, but they were finally able to reopen to serve us our beloved Mexican goodness. It has been a LONG month.

     As I sat enjoying my meal, the fenced-off property of what was once the shopping center held my attention. They are still in the process of clearing the rubble. The ground is still covered in tiny pieces of shattered glass and debris. It may be a while yet before everything is hauled away. I couldn’t help but consider the scene in a metaphorical sense.

     When my Mother died I had a hard time. I remember clearly how off it felt to me that everyone was just going about their business as if nothing was wrong. People were going to movies, shopping for groceries, going to work, headed home, etc. It all bothered me. I felt like I was living in some odd time warp. Everyone else was moving at normal speed and I was moving in slow motion. Everyone else was blissfully skipping and jumping and it took me more energy than I had to just put one foot in front of the other. It was extremely surreal and unsettling.

     My friend lost her grandmother a month ago. I saw her a couple of weeks later. She looked like what I imagine I must have looked like after my Mother’s death. It broke my heart. The hurt hung heavy all around her so I hugged her and she cried. My lips leaked out some dumb words that people tend to say to hurting people. I didn’t know what else to do, even though I knew better than that. In those moments I wished I had a magic cure to bring her happy back. There just isn’t one.

     I lost my grandson 3 months ago. On the way home from our favorite restaurant,  I heard from an extended family member. She is at a different place in her grief work over Maddox than I am. She is still having a tough time. That really is okay. It validated the things that were floating through my head, having sat there and considered the site of that explosion.

     The truth about loss is it is personal. Sure, you can communally grieve some losses. When you get right to it, though, each person still has to work through their own feelings. There is no timeline for that work. For some, it will be quick. For some, it will take a long, long time. One of the most gracious things we can do for people is allow them space for the work to be done. That holds true for any kind of loss.

     Our favorite restaurant is reopened. Life continues almost as if nothing happened. Across the street, however, rubble is still being cleared. Livelihoods have been destroyed. People are still bewildered and struggling. We should be sensitive, you and I, to the people around us. Sometimes we are aware, but most of the time we don’t know what has exploded in the lives around us.