Darkness And Light

You have taken from me friend and neighbor—darkness is my closest friend.

“Hello darkness, my old friend,” sing Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel in their song “The Sound of Silence.” “I’ve come to talk with you again.” Written as Simon reflected on the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, the song speaks to the quiet that settles in after deep loss. For those living through the 1960s, the song would become an anthem of grief as the nation continued to suffer the crippling losses of prominent figures over the next decade.

Both the psalmist and Simon and Garfunkel use the word “friend” to describe darkness. For a long time, I thought their word choice was tongue in cheek, sardonic, or despairing. However, since my own loss, I’ve learned that darkness can offer unique and necessary friendship as we learn to cope with the deaths of those we love. In darkness, we discover truths about the world and ourselves that only sorrow can show.

After your person dies, darkness descends on your life in a way you’ve never known it before. Everyday joys lose their luster. The future looks uncertain, and the past becomes painful to remember. Like a lunar eclipse, grief moves across the face of your life, blotting out the sun of happiness and contentment and peace. Like the psalmist, you look at your life and see only loss.

Learning to thrive again after the death of a loved one requires that we make friends with grief’s darkness by turning to our tender places with self-compassion and grace. This means acknowledging that darkness exists after loss and facing that darkness honestly. We need not gloss over our pain or try to outrun it. Instead, we listen to our fears, anxieties, sadness, and frustration and receive the important information that darkness has to offer us. Darkness can teach us vital lessons about our priorities and values. Death and loss can show us truths about our characters, places for repentance and growth. Darkness may be an unlikely and unwelcome friend, but it is a valuable one nonetheless.

Christians can face grief’s darkness without despairing because we are assured God is present with us in it. Psalm 139 tells us that there is no darkness too dark for God. To him, pitch-black midnight is the same as sunny high noon. When we turn to grief’s darkness to learn its wisdom, we do so with a divine lamp to our feet and light to our path. On this road with sorrow, we walk hand in hand with grief and God.

Have you been running from grief’s darkness, attempting to put on a cheerful face? Today, ask God to help you acknowledge the hard parts of your loss. You can face the darkness with confidence. The Light of Life illumines all your night.

You, LORD, are my lamp; the LORD turns my darkness into light.

He reveals the deep things of darkness and brings utter darkness into the light.

A Prayer: God, I confess that I don’t want to look at the dark parts of my grief. I’d rather avoid than confront the deep pain of my loss. I don’t want darkness to be my friend. But I know there are things you wish to teach me in this season that I could not learn any other way. Help me to turn to my grief and listen to its wisdom. Remind me that as I face my grief, I do not do it alone. You shine brightly in my darkness and fill my life with light. Amen.

An Activity for Today: Have people told you since your loss that you are strong or brave? You probably don’t feel like you deserve the accolades when you know how weak or afraid you feel. Truly, though, you’ve done big things since your person died—big things worth celebrating.

To mark all that you’ve accomplished, fill out the award on the next page. Identify something your person would be proud of if he or she could see you now. No win is too small to celebrate. Whether or not you feel it, you’ve done big things with God’s help.

A Song to Encourage Your Heart: “Christ, Be Our Light” by Bernadette Farrell