From the Cradle to the Grave

Why does the death of a loved one hurt so much?
The first time I can remember ever seeing someone that had passed away was when I was ten years old. My Aunt Katherine died of cancer and when she died her coffin lay in the polar of my Grandparents house in Mississippi for viewing. I can remember slipping into the room, lights were dimmed and it was so cold in there. I didn't understand why all the furniture was missing , nor why two air conditioners were blowing at such high temps. I tip toed over to her as she lay, looking like she was just sleeping . I can also remember thinking she looked so pretty. I loved her! She use to let me stay the night with my cousins. We would run in the pastures, dare each other to touch the electric fence, and pick blackberry's to take back to my Aunt. Sometimes she would give me a dollar to walk down to the old country store to get a box of cereal for us kids. She was really good to me. That was the first of many, many relative's that I loved and lost to death.
Through the years God called home both sets of my Grandparents, numerous Aunts and Uncles, Cousins, In-laws, and even my own Mother. So many...so many!
When my Mother died, I thought it was the end of my world that I knew. Her passing was the hardest for me, I guess because I had to tell her it was okay to leave this world, plus watch her draw her last breath. She's been gone now, eighteen years tomorrow, and it still feels like it was today.
When my Sister-in-law Cecelia died four years ago, I was heart broken again. She was a classy lady. Always there to listen and she was like the glue to my husbands family. On her last day in the hospital as she said her goodbyes to her brother and I, she told me she loved me. Even thou that was the first she had ever said it to me, I always knew it.
When my Aunt Louvenia died it tore another piece of my heart. I loved visiting her through the years. We laughed a lot together. I always loved her. She was kind and gentle like my Mom. I guess being sisters they shared that trait. She loved everyone, I never heard her say a bad word or thing against anyone. She's also been gone only four years and it too seems like yesterday.
Oh, there were many in between those that I mentioned. Each one chiseled off another piece of my heart.
This week I will attend yet another funeral for another sweet Aunt in Mississippi. She is the last of My mothers family as far as her parents, her seven siblings, and their spouses. My Aunt Phyllis has been writing me since I was fourteen years old. When I was little and visiting my Mothers parents, I was scared of Aunt Phyllis. She talked with a strong voice, wasn't much for entertaining the little kids. She was business like in manner and always busy. It wasn't until I received that first letter one day out of the blue, that I got to see the kind heart behind the strong lady. She thought enough of me, her niece, to sit down and write me. Through the years we corresponded and visited at her home in Natchez. She and my Uncle were there for support when my Sister and I needed them. They didn't judge or turn their backs when we asked for help with our Mother. They showed deep kindest and love for her. My Aunt opened her heart for my Mom and then to me through the years. I last saw her in May, as I tried to do every May when I'm in Natchez. She always said with a big smile on her face that she had out lived all her family and she was ready to go home but that the Priest would not stop coming by and praying for her to live a long life. And I always told her I would see her next May. She was a special lady! She was 101 years old. I loved her and again my heart is breaking and torn!
My husband reminded me yesterday that God tells us not to weep and be sad but to celebrate and rejoice for those that are with him in Heaven. Why is it so hard to do that? Why do our hearts break each time? I know the time will come again and again but the ones that I won't be able to heal from are if I lost the love of my life, my own spouse. Or my daughter's or my grandchildren.
How would I be able to celebrate the loss of any of them. They are my whole life,
None of us know our ending time. We came into this world, created by God before our parents ever knew us. Planed by him alone. He also knows the second and the day we will die. But why does it hurt so bad to see them go? Why does it hurt so bad?