Excerpt from the book:
I shudder to refer to you as “dear.” Yet you have been with me for so long that you have become a part of me, which I suppose entitles you to this term of affection, though my heart grants it unwillingly.
You are an enigmatic and elusive creature, a chameleon, changing color with habitat and season. Some say you pass with time, like grains of sand sifting through my fingers, no longer resting in the safety of my palm. Others say you are a process, as if by accomplishing twelve prescribed steps I could graduate from your possession and be free of you. But you are not a process. You do not pass, at least not in this lifetime.
You dwell with me — in me — but you are not my master. You roam on a leash, tethered by the One who owns you. You haven’t always been here, and one day you’ll disappear, for there’s only one Alpha and Omega. One beginning and one end, and you are neither.
You will not win, nor overcome. You’ve already been subdued and defeated, for “death has been swallowed up by victory” (1 Corinthians 15:54). A day is coming when you’ll be deemed redundant and your crown obsolete. On that day, O Grief, you will no longer be called “dear” . . . nor even a distant memory.