To everything there is a season

Trust me, you do not understand Ecclesiastes 3 until you lose someone of this magnitude in your life. You might think you do. You might even think it the Pete Seeger song, Turn, Turn, Turn, and you might sing along with the tune and you might understand the words but you cannot comprehend the meaning. And when you do understand it, at least your initial steps of comprehension, you don't find the comfort that is right there for you. You turn your back on it. But it waits for you, patiently. It does not knock or say, ahem, it does not reach out for you. It waits for you to reach out for it. And when you do face it, you pick up the words born, die, weep and mourn. You turn your eye and heart from laugh and plant and dance. You fall to the ground when you read keep, because you want to keep and you'd do anything to have him back. And you realize that understanding this is a process not unlike learning to read. You will be able to understand the whole but right now, for now, what you must focus on is the building blocks. Someday, someday I will understand the whole. For now though, I do trust it's there.

Too everything there is a season,
a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up
what is planted;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away.