The fine line between grief and joy

Shortly before her death, my beautiful aunt, Claire, pointed me to these words from Bonhoeffer, written by him when he was in prison for standing against the Nazi regime,

"There is nothing that can replace the absence of someone dear to us, and one should not even attempt to do so. One must simply hold out and endure it. At first that sounds very hard, but at the same time it is also a great comfort. For to the extent the emptiness truly remains unfilled one remains connected to the other person through it. It is wrong to say that God fills the emptiness. God in no way fills it but much more leaves it precisely unfilled and thus helps us preserve — even in pain — the authentic relationship. Furthermore, the more beautiful and full the remembrances, the more difficult the separation. But gratitude transforms the torment of memory into silent joy. One bears what was lovely in the past not as a thorn but as a precious gift deep within, a hidden treasure of which one can always be certain."

The phrase I most love is this one,

"Gratitude transforms the torment of the memory into silent joy".

Why does gratitude do that? Is it because it opens our hearts to God again and allows the Comforter in? Is it because it reminds us that he is generous and that all will be restored?

I anm not sure but it surprises me how much it helps. There is such a fine line that borders grief and joy when someone we treasure has died. Thankfulness helps me to cross it and to cherish the precious memories so that I regain something of what I have lost. Of course there are still times that I flounder in grief, stamping my feet because I want Trevor back, longing to see him but a few weeks ago, I sat watching the sunset at Thurlestone Rock in Devon with my parents, thankful for Trevor, thankful for the great goodness of God, thankful that the light shines brightest when night comes.