I recently watched a reel of a mother experiencing heightened emotions after she left a grocery store. She said she ran into another mother with a toddler and couldn’t help but stare. Her own children were past the baby and toddler stage, and all she wanted to do was reach out to the mother and say, “It goes by too quickly. Hold on to this moment.” Instead, she shared the message with online followers and revealed an emotional state that many of us experience and understand.

The mother was describing anticipatory grief: a mourning of something that has yet to occur. This means even mourning a stage for another person, understanding the emotions they, too, might soon experience.

Anticipatory grief might occur when faced with a particular diagnosis, saying goodbye to someone you might not see again, or even feeling longing as one phase of life begins to fade away.

In the story of Noah, the Torah reveals God unleashing the flood on the seventh day. The Midrash wonders why God waited until day seven to upend the world; it responds that God spends the first six days mourning the loss that was about to occur. Even God experiences and expresses anticipatory grief, a hurt or angst that is felt even when we are the ones initiating what is about to happen.

Signing divorce papers. Packing a child for college. Disassembling a crib. So many moments where grief is experienced before the event actually occurs. And while one can’t necessarily mitigate the pain, there is comfort in knowing God shares this section of our heart. It is natural to yearn for what was and normal to dwell in sorrow, bereft over what won’t or will be.

And still, we know the end of the Noah story. Through God’s regret and grief, there is space to begin again. Not erasing God’s pain but allowing room for the world to resettle. A new chapter for God. A new chapter for humanity.

Perhaps this is the case for us, too. Amidst our own pain, prior or during our various stages of life, we will still find room to see new beginnings. The last chapter informs our present. In whichever flood we find ourselves, may the waters recede enough to experience a brighter tomorrow.

Shabbat Shalom

In partnership with The Jewish Journal, you can also find Rabbi Guzik’s blog post HERE.