awkward moments

Grief truly has its awkward moments. even old grief. even "boy, I thought I was moving on with this" grief.
Sunday night I was with a friend that I haven't seen in a while. He was commenting on the picture of my dad and me on the fridge.
"Who's your boyfriend?"
"What?"
"Starting to go for older men, huh?" Smile.
Now I get it and smile. "Oh. That's my dad."
"I know." Another smile and a friendly pause. "So how is your dad doing?"
And all of a sudden I want to puke before I have to say the words.
"Um, he died last year."
Terribly awkward pause. Now I feel more sorry for him because he had no idea and doesn't know what to say. I try to pull off a nonchalant "it's ok and I'm so used to talking about this now" tone to salvage the rest of conversation while I answer his questions about when and how.
Ugly grief that surprises me when it invades my mind. I have learned to submit my thoughts on this to the gracious sovreignty of God, but sometimes the pain still surprises me.

Like today. It should be an easy letter to write. I was going to write to a friend. I just heard his dad isn't doing well after a lengthy illness and transplant. Encouraging words of empathy should just pour from my heart. But instead, in my sinfulness, I found myself battling anger and, frighteningly enough, jealousy. I was jealous of the time they've had to prepare themselves for this moment. I was jealous of the goodbyes. I was jealous of their shared faith in Christ that gives them sweet fellowship together. I was jealous of their certainty of forever together. I was jealous of the temporary nature of their parting, if it comes. I was jealous of every year lived past fifty-two.

So, I put aside the letter and prayed for grace... and forgiveness... and joy. I know my prayers will be answered, for myself, for my friend, for his family. God is still very good.