Understandably, much of the American public is sad following our recent presidential election. Eight years ago I wrote that I had never seen an election filled with so much emotion. Of course, the overriding sentiment was much different. This time, there is palpable disappointment, even fear. I've had to console others while myself grieving something entirely different - the loss of my beloved grandmother. Last weekend she departed at the ripe age of 97, leaving a state of disbelief that her ubiquitous presence will be no more. It seemed that she would always be here, and that our scripted exchanges - limited due to my broken Chinese - would never grow old. "Why are you dressed so nice?" was her common greeting when she saw me, even if I was in full weekend mode in sweatshirt and jeans. I took each compliment in stride and immediately returned one back at her: "Your hair looks really good!" (which it did, because I would often see her after going to the hairdresser). When annoyed she would declare, "Your mother is so frustrating!" To which I would respond "She's your daughter!" My sister and I were in constant rivalry trying to out do the other to see who could make my grandmother laugh, ending in an inevitable tie each time because my sister's inferior language skills would produce outright laughter just for not making any sense.

My sadness for my grandmother is a different sadness than I feel for our nation. It's interesting that though different, they stem from the same root: the futility of the human condition. I am sure to be sad again on different occasions, but only while my cry grows louder - Come, Lord Jesus, come.