Where does it go

I recently passed the fifth anniversary of starting my current job. The executive director of the firm mentioned the milestone in his monthly newsletter, along with some nice compliments my co-worker friend had drafted for him. I read it and thought I would forward it to my parents, and then I remembered. It's those little instinctive things, when you would naturally say something to the gone loved one, that cause a poignant pain.

My parents blessed me by being so interested in what I did. About 30 years ago, I worked for a company that published automotive information and textbooks. My first project was editing a textbook for potential mechanics (PC: automotive technicians) about automatic transmissions. My name was in the front pages as "Assistant Editor," if I recall correctly. I told my folks about it during a phone call, and my dad told me to find out how he could buy a copy of the book. So I went to the production manager next day at work and said that my dad wanted to buy the book. He thought that was so funny. I said, "Hey, if my dad didn't think I was wonderful, who would?" The production manager gave me a free copy to give to my dad.

I wrote the above a few days ago. Then I read a memoir of sorts by a cousin's son. My cousin lost her husband at (his) age of 59. Her son mentioned in his writing that weeks after his father died, he took out his cell phone to call him before he remembered he no longer could reach him that way.

Emily Dickinson wrote:

The Bustle in a House
The Morning after Death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon Earth –

The Sweeping up the Heart
And putting Love away
We shall not want to use again
Until Eternity –

As it turns out, you can't really put that love away. It's there. I don't believe it is without use or purpose, though. In some way, I trust it reaches the ones I love. But it is a loss that I can no longer say it simply and directly to a physically present person, or show it by a hug, a touch, a look, an act of service.

Jesus said that when we do loving things for the people around us, we do it for him. That is the use we have for our love for the Christ and the saints in heaven, is to show it to others. Years ago I read in a book about Benedictine spirituality that the questions to ask yourself after an encounter with another person are: Did I see Christ in him? Did he see Christ in me? May it be so.