Soon after the death of a loved one, in come many visitors to the bereaved. Some arrive early, bearing gifts of food, flowers and speaking words of consolation and comfort. Others appear late in the day, unable to say anything, but still comforting by their very presence. But when the comforters have gone away and we sit through the lonely watches of the night, pondering our loss, the final visitor arrives. He comes uninvited and not to bring consolation; his words are empty of that. No, his purpose is to smother any desire we may still have for life, to snuff out the smallest spark of hope that may yet gleam within our soul. He is the black-winged demon of despair, sent to bring us swiftly to the realm of everlasting pain and to bring the pain of Hell to us while we are still alive. I think we all know Despair to be the utter absence of hope. Hope have flown away and Despair has taken up its abode in a place of desolate hope.
Acceptance of the death of our loved one is never easy. Though St. Paul cautions us to "sorrow not, even as others which have no hope" (Thess. 4:13), when our world has collapsed around us, heaven seems a dim, far point of light in a vast universe of darkness. The effort to hold out our hands, that Christ might bring us up from the depths, seems too great. His Church was built that "...the gates of hell shall not prevail against it" (Matt. 17:18). But when we do not seek refuge in the Church, these same gates can swallow us alive.
The demon of despair attempts to keep us fixed on the idea that today's fresh grief will renew itself throughout an eternity of tomorrows. I am sure that anyone who has passed through this shadowed valley and out into the sunlight again, will tell that those very memories that cause the most pain do become the sweetest with the passage of time.
To dwell in darkness of the heart as a lost and fallen person is a choice we all have to make. The heart is not uncharted territory. Christ descended into these depths of Despair too, so that we could all be brought forth, out of ourselves, and out from under the shadow of Despair. Within the heart are unfathomable depths. It is but a small vessel, and yet dragons and lions are there, poisonous creatures and all the treasures of wickedness; rough, uneven paths are there, and gaping chasms. However likewise there is also God, there are the angels, there life and the eternal kingdom exist, there light and the treasures of grace; all things abide there. What is born must die; what is given over to Christ will transcend even death. My Val is in the glorious kindom of the Lord preparing a place for me.
