Five Years On

The first anniversary of Debbie's death was inevitably a strange day, but I have to say that the date itself hasn't usually had a great impact on me in the years since. The more poignant moments are usually prompted - at least for me - by finding a photograph or a memento, hearing a piece of music, or even in visiting places that were significant for us. 

Today marks five years since Debs died, and I found myself thinking about her and what happened a little more than usual. Perhaps 5 years is some kind of subconscious threshold, or maybe it is because bereavement feels quite current, as I took a funeral yesterday, we've had a death in the family, and there is a rather significant funeral on Saturday.

Whatever the reason, it prompted me to think a bit about the enduring impact of bereavement that I have seen in myself and in others over the years. One thing people often reflect on - especially when the person is younger - is what might have happened, or what might they have achieved. And I can understand the temptation to spend all your time and energy yearning for a kind of parallel universe where they are still with us.

However, if having a faith that believes in life beyond this means anything, it has to mean that whatever seems unfulfilled in this life, it does not remain so for eternity. The gifts we received from the person who has now died are not wasted; neither is their potential wasted, even if we won't see it in this life. It's hard to put exactly what I'm thinking and feeling into words, so I'll leave you with Nothing Good Is Wasted, a song by my good friend Rob Halligan.