The sorrow beneath the surface

He will wipe every tear from their eyes,

and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain

Revelation 21:4


The thing is, there is sorrow.  So very close to the surface… we don’t often look for it in each other but most of us know it’s there in us.

Words we never said to those we loved.  Hurts we carry from our childhood.  Dreams that died under the pressure of our lives.  Loss, longing, love.  Unemployment, chronic illness, debt.

And this is just the tip of the iceberg even in our comfortable Western lives.

Yesterday my train journey to Devon was delayed by a fatality on the line in Darlington.  Just a month after a 51 year old man took his life on the same stretch of railway.  Just six months after another man aged 30 died on this line.

What I didn’t yet know as I sat down to read Faith Unraveled is that the lady sitting next to me had been widowed by suicide.

Some of you may know that my own faith has been unraveling over some years.  I’m done with a Christianity that offers blithe answers to the ‘problem of suffering’.  I am not ready yet to let go of the hope that our tears could someday be wiped away.  But we’re not living in someday, we’re living here.  A planet of individuals who know what it is to carry sorrow in one form or another.

The lady sitting next to me asked me a bit about my book, and what I do for work in the NHS.  When I talked a bit about using my experience of mental illness to teach others, there was something like relief on her face.  She poured out her story of the loss of her husband, in his fifties.  Earlier this year he took his own life after suffering from severe anxiety.

I have no answers, but I am finding the ability nowadays to sit with sorrow.  To hear this lady’s pain and not to try and say something uplifting or hopeful because it would ease my own discomfort.  To be a comfort just by being willing to hear her story.

There is death and sorrow and pain.  We don’t like to talk about these things but they are part of humanity.  I want to continue to learn to be a person who can listen, and accept sorrow just as it is.


On Dignitas and New Shoes

A poem inspired by the film Me Before You

Alpine light filters through a gauzy curtain

A final pressing of lips to lips

Breath to breath

Our teardrops salty mingle

A sip of water

Seductive in its simplicity

But in truth the agony becomes yours

Instead of mine

It’s not as simple as new shoes

But I’ll walk in them today

By your side

Heels click-clacking

Arches aching hot

Beauty and pain like it’s always been

I won’t leave.

Death: is it your right to choose?