Don’t get me wrong; I don’t have a death wish, and I’m not unhappy with my life. It’s just that in the days leading up to Easter, grief hit me in the gut like a sucker-punch.

It hasn’t even been three months since Nathan died, yet sometimes I think of him in heaven and an unexpected wave of some feeling very much akin to jealousy tumbles over me. As Christians, we are taught – and our faith is based on this fact – that we have the hope of eternal life with Christ after death. What an amazing, brain-boggling concept, when you really think about it! The Bible says that to be apart from the body is to be alive with Christ (Romans 8:10-11).

Maybe it’s the big sister in me … that part that says it’s not fair for my little brother to get to see the good part before me! I know that’s probably silly, but I’m just being honest.

As I was pressing through my grief this past week and trying to shrug off the invisible weight on my eyebrows that seemed to want to squeeze out tears every time I blinked, I listened to praise music. Of course, being the week before Easter, the local Christian radio station pulled out all the punches with songs of hope and rejoicing and longing fulfilled in Christ. I wanted to wallow a while in self-pity; instead, I was confronted with Truth. Yes, Nathan got there first. But I can’t ignore the other fact: there’s still plenty of work yet to do here. Hopefully I still have several decades to live, and I know that God can use my time here to teach me, mold me, use me … until it is time to take me Home, too.