For all the saints who from their labors rest...

Today is All Saints' Day.  I grew to appreciate All Saints' while working at Luther Memorial.  It is a day to remember not only canonized saints but saints in the more general sense of all Christians.  It is a reflective day and often a bit sad.  In January, I sent out a New Year's letter because of all the new beginnings we anticipated in 2010.  I have considered sending an All Saints' letter since I'm not sure I'll be up to Christmas cards or another New Year's letter.

It's been a rough year.  Losing Grandpa was tough even though his health had been declining for some time.  I realized several years ago that he was the most consistent source of unconditional love in my life.  His absence still leaves a hole in our family.  Losing Neil was devastating.  Though I wasn't initially thrilled about being pregnant, I became more and more excited about meeting him as I got to know him.  He was intelligent and resourceful and opinionated and aware of the world he hadn't yet seen.  As he approached full term, he even played with me.  I was happy and hopeful, which is rare for a person with chronic depression.  I knew he was remarkable and a gift from God.  Unfortunately, I didn't get to keep my gift, and the hope and happiness evaporated, leaving a gaping void in my life.  I have found new activities to fill my time, but I find I still miss him daily.  The extended family also recently experienced loss with the death of Aunt Wanda died.  And though it seems petty in comparison to the other losses, even beloved family pets, Dante and Rascal, have died since last All Saints'.  It's been a rough year.

The title of this post is from a hymn that in later verses says, "And yet there breaks a still more glorious dawn."  Most days the hope of seeing loved ones again does not outweigh the feelings of loss I have now in the darkness of my grief.  But there is hope.  And in my powerlessness to change what is and was, all I can do is hope for what will be.

I sometimes get responses to my posts and typically welcome them, but I think I'd prefer not to hear from anyone about this post.  Most words of "comfort," no matter how true or well-meant, irritate me.  Please be caring enough not to add irritation to my grief.