that moment.

loss and grief has been on my mind a lot lately.
i've watched from afar as friends grieved losses.
i've watched as friends grieved and feared losses from afar.
i've attended almost as many burials in the last seven months as in the previous 21 years.
most recently, i got sunburnt from the six hours in the back of a pickup with fellow teachers as we travelled to spend 40 minutes at the burial for a colleague's father.

just now, sitting here in the internet cafe, in a moment of delight as i flipped through my sister's photos on facebook, i caught the eye of a white girl sitting across from me. there were tears streaming down her face even as she tried not to cry. her eyes were full of that grief that comes when you get unexpected, unwanted, bad news... and you can't do anything more than finish reading the email. grief... from afar. without the comfort of friends and family. without the chance for a last goodbye or any physical closure.

the closest i've come to that moment was one summer working as a crusader, when i got a phone call telling me that one of my semi-mentors from my parents' church had just died. even then, i was among a community who also knew the man, and i'm pretty sure i was offered the chance to go home for the funeral if i wanted.

i haven't experienced that moment like she just did. i hope never to have to. the prospect fills me with dread, and when i'm honest, it is one of the greater fears i have while living here and as i consider a longer-term commitment.

that moment is difficult enough when you're in the room as they take the last breath, or when you learn about it in the midst of family and friends who are also grieving and can comfort each other in that grief.

i feel guilty for having witnessed that moment for her. i feel sad for knowing i can't offer her any comfort or solace. and my own joy is a bit dulled by her pain.