I’ll Sing On

And when from death I’m free I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on, and when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on, and when from death I’m free, I’ll sing and joyful be, and through eternity I’ll sing on. – What Wondrous Love Is This, Anonymous

Today is Good Friday. Since childhood, I’ve held this day as solemn. We would go to a darkened church where the silence held unspoken grief. My Dad would hold my hand just a little tighter during those services. The weight of this day, every year, still makes me tremble.

In reflecting, there certainly were other moments of trembling. In college, I flew home from an internship when my Dad’s father died. I remember the quiet in the car, just the two of us, his unspoken grief.

Soon after I graduated, he picked me up after a trip to job hunt and visit friends. In the car, he told me that my Mom’s mom had died. Not six weeks before, she watched me walk across the graduation stage. I will never forget catching my Mom’s eye upon our return, her unspoken grief.

Lucky to have a job that brought me back to Michigan, I would stay with my in-laws and loved those chances to catch up. Knowing that my Dad’s mom was not well, my father-in-law drove me for an evening visit. He held my unspoken grief on our return.

These moments all prepared me for hard ones to come as we faced Doug’s loss, and the loss of my father and father-in-law. I drew upon unspoken lessons recalling the heaviness of grief and the magnitude of love. It is that love that continues to holds us all upright.

And I recall another favorite hymn, a reminder of my reason to sing, the love that accompanies us even through the dark. “And when from death I’m free I’ll sing on, and when from death I’m free, I’ll sing and joyful be, and through eternity I’ll sing on.”