What punishments of God are not gifts?

It's Thanksgiving weekend and when I think of things I am grateful for I think of the time we had together as brother and sister. I didn't realize, as most of us don't, that our time together would be so much shorter than expected, that it was a gift soon to be taken back. I had no idea that would hurt so much. Not just to lose you, but to simply be without you, to have to exist in a world where you are no longer.

When Tolkien wrote "What punishments of God are not gifts" I think he was exploring the meaning of suffering in human existence, no doubt well informed by the trauma he experienced in World War I and the early loss of his parents. For Tolkien, it seems pain and suffering was tantamount to being human, and something that is inescapable as part of that condition, and as such must be expected alongside all of the other things that comes with being human. We love, therefore we hurt. It isn't a choice, for we must love, must seek out attachments, must find connections, because that it what it means to be human - ergo alive. But the loss of that love, or the ending of that attachment, causes pain and sadness.

Forever, it seems.

Last night you came to me in a dream. You arrived out of the blue with a wife and two children and you hugged me tight and said that you were sorry to show up unannounced but that you'd really like to join us for Thanksgiving. It felt pretty real, that hug. I still feel it. I've felt it all day long. It hurts a bit too, because it's a common trope that my mind plays with that you were just away somewhere, and that one day you will show up again and it will all have been a mistake.

I am thankful for this dream. I am thankful for this visit, this hug, that I can still feel, even though it hurts. I am grateful that you remain with me, that I remember you, that I can still see you in my dreams. I am thankful for you.

Happy Thanksgiving little brother. You are, of course, always welcome.