Article July 21, 1997 Issue

Drop the curtain on grief

Thora H. Wardwell

While staying with dear friends, a few months after the death of my husband, I woke very early one morning feeling sick and enveloped in loss and loneliness. I turned to God instantly and said, "Tell me how to proceed with my life. Where am I to go now? What am I to do?" I then arose, dressed, and quietly left the house.

The out-of-doors was a fairyland. A light snow had fallen in the night, and the pastures, roads, and trees were sparkling white in the slanting, early morning sunlight. As I walked, I quietly prayed, and as I breathed in the clear, crisp air and lifted my head high, these words came to my waiting thought: "Drop the curtain."

"Drop the curtain on what?" I wondered. Certainly I did not want to drop it on the unselfishness, tenderness, loyalty, and love of my life companion. That wasn't it. I continued walking and rejoicing in the beauty around me, while listening for greater insights on what "drop the curtain" could possibly mean for me at this time. Then I thought, drop the curtain on sickness and death, separation and any regrets.

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