Sunday's Comin'

I have been thinking about funerals this week. We had two to attend in February. One was the death of my dear friend's husband. The next week it was the mother of another dear friend. Though each was expected due to a long illness, the aftermath of grief was no less painful.
I didn't have deal with my Father's death well. I avoided the funeral planning, the viewing of the body and even pretended to myself that he was still alive in the hospital. A couple of weeks later, I longed to see my Father one last time and realized I had missed my chance. I returned to the Mortuary and asked to walk through the casket room to appease my hurt, to which they graciously complied. But my grief was not eased.
Seven years later when my mother died, I wanted to handle it better. At the outset, I allowed myself to grieve. It turned out the grief was for both of my parents. I still can remember how I felt when we had to leave the cemetery. My legs would not cooperate. I couldn't imagine being torn from the last resting place of my Mother.
The loss of my mother in law eight years ago was very hard on us all. She died so suddenly . She had broken her hip and had to have a hip replacement. The surgery was late on Wednesday and she was gone by the following Monday morning. She had been like a real Mother to me. I never felt like I was just a daughter in law. She was an example of a godly witness and prayer warrior. I still miss her so much.
All these memories came as I was thinking about how the disciples felt on that Saturday so long ago. They did not know what would happen the next day. All they knew was that their dearest friend and leader was dead, along with their hopes and dreams. I have realized the last few years that that is why Good Friday services seem like a funeral. In a way, they are. They are somber and mournful. How thankful I am to know the rest of the story. As bad as Friday was, the resurrection on Sunday was glorious and forever life changing.