Closure is an interesting concept. We’re all familiar with it. It is a universal truth that everything we experience starts with an open door, that, eventually, closes before us. Daybreak opens to light, and day closes to night. A window of opportunity opens, and then closes. We're asleep, then we wake; we're awake, then we sleep. Our physical senses open to this world upon birth, and they close upon death. In one way or another, we all need closure as we move through this life. We live openly and, therefore, are subject to both positive and negative experiences. We welcome the open door of opportunity and the pursuit of a goal, or the realization of an aspiration. But living also presents the potential of victimization, the unwanted inevitability of hurt, or grief. We are recipients of verbal or physical abuse, betrayal by a friend, and frequent injustice in our private and public lives. The most trying occurrence, had by all, is the death of a loved one; the curtain that draws on the physical life of a husband or wife, a child, a friend, a pet. The sting of death is guaranteed to strike you and me. No one is immune. We can run, but not hide. And when it comes, we clamor for relief from the mental and emotional trauma, for some explanation or perspective to help us move on. It’s an inherent survival response. We require a way through and beyond the suffocating darkness, into the light of life, once again. But I propose that, ultimately, our futile attempts to find closure, need not torment us. The common verdict of the “loss” of a loved one as “gone”, is not founded on solid ground. The fact is that when the door of a human life has closed upon death, another immediately opens. The physical death, the closure of the temporal, physical existence, gives way to the introduction of new, eternal life! The door of physical life was slammed shut, but the door of our never-ending, spirit life has opened, never to close! My immediate family has several members who have “passed from death to life.” Recently, we’ve said goodbye, for now, to John and Scotty. We’re certainly saddened by their passing, but, more so, we take comfort, and even joy, knowing the burdens of the physical life are no more! And the sobering thoughts it brings of our own eventu
al death, yields to an intangible assurance; the sure hope we only find in our trust and faith in the Almighty. The Apostle Paul wrote these words of comfort and hope to the first believers in Christ, “Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.” And one millennium earlier, King David wrote, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” For my family, and especially for Jeanette and Lynn, we will rest in the heart knowledge that with God, we are graced with a final “closure” from the darkness of hurt and sorrow, and, most importantly, the dawning of a new, eternal day, wherein "goodbyes" are never spoken.