Don't surrender your loneliness so quickly.

I have felt so alone in my grief these past few months.  I don’t mean actually, physically alone – I have wished for that many times and when I get it, it never lasts long enough.  No, the alone I have felt is in the depth and grandness of the sorrow I feel day in and day out, as I walk through my days and dredge through long, sleepless nights.  I know that others in my life are grieving too, wishing Rami was here.  In losing Rami, they lost their grandson, nephew, or dearest friends’ little boy… and that is a sad and difficult thing to maneuver, I know.  They think of him often, mostly every day.  They cry over missing him, and weep for me, their daughter, niece, sister, friend.  But I… I have lost my child, my firstborn, flesh of my flesh, or as is said in Arabic of someone you love deeply and cannot imagine living without,

عروق قلبي

"shreyan gelby"

(veins of my heart).

Today I found the quote below, written by Hafiz, an author I’d not heard of until now.  I looked him up.  Turns out he was an Iranian poet who’s lifelong desire was to be ever closer to God.  My friend Nate, who’s currently living in India, posted this quote online with a recent picture of himself from the back, walking through an alleyway somewhere in India.  The alleyway is lined with ancient buildings painted in bold colors, and it's full of passersby including a guy on a mo-ped,  a cow standing near a pile of garbage, several Indian people, and tall, white Nate.  Just by looking at the picture, it seems to me Nate is surrounded by people, but his Hafiz quote indicates he is experiencing something of loneliness.  

"Don't surrender your loneliness so quickly. Let it cut more deep. Let it ferment and season you as few human or even divine ingredients can. Something missing in my heart tonight has made my eyes so soft, my voice so tender, my need of God absolutely clear."  ~ Hafiz

It’s easy to feel the pang of loneliness even while amongst others.  Nate and Hafiz remind me now of something I’m becoming increasingly aware of…

Something missing in my heart tonight is drawing me closer to the Lord.