Emptiness

camp otterbein empty.jpg

“Don’t be afraid.  You are looking for Jesus from Nazareth, who has been crucified.  He has risen from the dead; he is not here.  Look, here is the place they laid him.”   Mark 16:6

We celebrated at Easter that the tomb was empty.  Jesus conquered death.  He is risen.  He is risen indeed.  In the celebration, I heard the word “empty.”  The tomb being empty brought fear that someone stole the body but also a hope that what Jesus said about himself was true – that he would rise from the dead in three days.  I heard the word “empty” earlier in the week when my friend said she now answers when asked, “How are you feeling?” with – “I feel empty.”  Her empty is not a celebration.  It is a loneliness. 

We know what empty is in “normal” life.  When we open the refrigerator and it is almost empty, we know a trip to the grocery store is needed soon.  We look at the gas gauge on our vehicle before we head to the store, and the gauge is close to the “E” so we stop at the gas station on our way to the store.  Our stomach begins to growl, and we realize we have not partaken of a meal yet.  We recognize empty in things around us and even in our stomachs.  These “empties” can be filled by preforming the necessary tasks.  But what about the emptiness within us?

We see the empty chair, the empty bed, the empty house and feel the emptiness inside of us.  Grief is in this space, but it does not fill the space.  Nothing fills the space.  No person, no food, no event, nothing new, no possessions, nothing.  Oh, we may try a few different things for awhile that cover up the emotions and feelings.   We may stay busy to avoid feeling the emptiness, but nothing fills the void in your life after a loved one has died.

We experience the emptiness of disappointment.  Life did not turn out the way we had planned.  We had so many hopes and dreams, and they are shattered because of death.  We anticipated growing old together, but death ended that dream.  We feel a part of us has been torn away.  We see others enjoying happiness and laughter together, and we feel a twinge of anger because it is not us.  We are disappointed that nothing fills the void.

We may believe in Heaven and that Jesus’ resurrection gives us the gift of eternal life.  We believe our loved one is in heaven, but there is an emptiness in the unknown.  What is heaven like?  What are they doing?  Do they know what is going on with me and our family?  It is difficult at times to trust in the unknown.  We know are loved one is whole and complete and without pain, but do they know the hole they left in our hearts and lives?  Our faith believes and trusts, but the emptiness within us wants assurance.

The emptiness also comes in not knowing what life will be like now.  We feel empty inside because a part of us is gone.  Our loved one made us complete with purpose and hope.  Our lives are different.  It is overwhelming trying to maneuver the obstacles of life and make decisions alone.  The empty space that once was filled with our loved one will always be empty, but the grief journey calls us to live in the other places of our lives.  Oh, we never stop feeling the hole, but we begin to live with that emptiness as a part of who we are now.  In this different life, we recognize who comes beside us.  The one who emptied the tomb and conquered pain and death, Jesus.

Jesus comes to us in a different way just as he did with his disciples.  He was still Jesus, but now he was resurrected and promised to be with them in Spirit.  There was an emptiness for the disciples that Jesus would not be physically walking with them as he had for the past three years, but he would be with them through his Holy Spirit.  Our loved one stays with us in our hearts and our spirits are forever connected.  The physical emptiness will always be with us, but it is trusting in the loving spirit that will remain in us.  It takes a step and sometimes a leap of faith to accept and believe this different connection.