Osler's Razor

Yesterday I went to a funeral. Dawn Harrell was an author and minister, editor, mother and wife. She contracted cancer at 48 and leaves behind my friend Daniel and their daughter Violet, who is in fifth grade.

In a recent post, Daniel mentioned that his wife was a believer in "letting darkness do its work," in the sense of letting grief be whole and real. There is deep truth in that.

I know people who treat everything like a funeral: they see sadness in everything, and are attuned primarily to the tragedy that is always present or near. I also know people who tend to treat everything like a wedding. Both of these views encompass a fair amount of denial. Both darkness and light need to do their work.

In a very literal sense, we are never in total darkness. Nor are we ever completely in light. There is darkness about us, in shadow, on the brightest day. Even the darkest night offers pinpricks of light.

But there is a time to mourn, and a time for joy. And we must let each do its work.