The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground. He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how. The earth produces by itself, first the blade, then the head, then the full grain in the head...
Truly, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.
There is always grief in death. The letting go hurts.
But, it is said that "we do not grieve as those who have no hope."
The seed falls down into the ground. Hidden. Out of our hands. And we wait. We wait and see. And we know not how, but we trust that something mysterious and wonderful is happening down there in the dark.
We grieve, but we have hope that someday life will come from this death. That after all the plowing and furrowing and breaking up of soil and sweating and weeping and falling and dying, there will be life.
And it will be awesome. "Immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine."
Yes. That's it.