I was absolutely overwhelmed in those first days.
Cars, cars, cars filled my long driveway and front yard.
People spilling out like ants scrambling after the hill is disturbed.
Oh, our hill was disturbed-knocked wide open by that deputy’s visit.
Read the rest here: Who Steps In? Who Walks Out?
I participate in a number of online support groups for bereaved parents.
And one topic that makes the rounds at least once a week-often once a day-is how those outside our experience cannot truly understand our experience.
Because it’s true-you THINK you can imagine the pain of child loss if you have children, but even the most vivid imagination can’t conjure the utter blackness that waits on the other side of hearing, “Your son is dead.”
There’s a great divide between me and those who have not experienced child loss.
But it’s one I hope they never have to cross.
Because it’s a mercy to not know.
If all of us could fathom the pain of losing a child, no one would bear children–the risk would be too great.
So while the gap can be a source of misunderstanding and isolation for ME, it is a safeguard for YOU.
And I am grateful for it.
It’s my habit to watch the sunrise and the sunset every day.
I usually greet the morning in my rocking chair, looking out my east-facing picture window. It never gets old to watch darkness chased away by relentless light rising over the tops of trees.
Beautiful.
Every. Time.
Sunset is a little trickier.
I don’t have a clear view of the west from inside my house and the western edge of my property is peppered with tall trees so I usually only see the beginning of the end of every day. But one of my favorite things to do is watch the golden glow of lingering light touch the tops of the highest pines and then slip away as the sun sinks below the horizon.
Another day has come and gone.
And the days become weeks that become months that become years.
Sometimes the days are long.
But the years are short.
Some days bring news I don’t want to hear. Some bring shouts of rejoicing. Either way I’m not the keeper of my days. The sun neither rises nor sets at my bidding.
But I have choices in the daylight hours. I can work while the sun is shining or I can worry that it might set soon.
I can take advantage of the light or I can wring my hands anticipating the darkness.
I am not naive.
I wish I were.
I wish I didn’t know by experience how much a heart can long for days gone by, days wasted, days that could have held more love and laughter but were overshadowed by worry or hurry or just indifference.
So I watch the sunrise to remind me that TODAY is a gift. And I watch the sunset to remind me that the gift of today is gone forever.
What have I done with it? Who have I loved? Where have I placed my energy and purpose and hope?
Every day is a once in a lifetime opportunity.
I never want to forget that.
Sunrise, sunset, Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly flow the days
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers
Blossoming even as we gaze
Sunrise, sunset, Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laden with happiness and tears~Sheldon Harnick
There have been a number of posts from different parents in our closed groups recently remarking on how difficult this journey continues to be even decades down the road.
From the outside looking in, folks think, “Well, they’ve had plenty of time to adapt”.
But what they don’t understand is that for a parent, it’s not only what we HAD that is missing, it’s what we thought we WOULD HAVE that we miss too.
So every Christmas, every New Year, every birthday, holiday and family celebration our child isn’t present is another “not there” we have to process and accept.
This grief truly is relentless.❤ Melanie
re·lent·less
adjective
opressively constant; incessant.
Synonyms: persistent, continuing, nonstop, never-ending, unabating, interminable, incessant, unceasing, endless, unremitting, unrelenting, unrelieved.
Sunday morning my sweet granddaughter, Holly, was gathered into the arms of Jesus.
Her little heart just couldn’t bear the weight of this earthly life.
I know her Uncle Dominic will love her well until we join them.
In the meantime I’m left with that old familiar ache-the heaviness sitting on my chest, threatening to squeeze the air from my lungs.
I recognized it immediately even though it’s been a long time since it felt so heavy.
We grieve because we love.
Tears, wails, laments are all reasonable responses to loss.
Death is the enemy. Don’t ever let anyone try to spiritualize that truth away.
God hates death.
Jesus wept at Lazarus’ tomb. His tears weren’t mere sentiment. They were proof that He longed for death to die.
I hate that my son and daughter-in-law now walk the path of child loss. I hate my grandsons will grow up wondering what their baby sister might “look like now”.
It’s another invitation into the deeper grace and greater love of a God who gave His only Son because He is unwilling for sin to win.
I’m thankful that because Jesus came, lived and gave HIS life, death does not have the last word.
“Living He loved me, Dying He saved me, Buried He carried my sins far away, Rising He justified, freely, forever, One day He’s coming-O Glorious Day!“
Glorious Day by Casting Crowns
I shared most of this on my personal Facebook page yesterday,
It was written before out sweet girl was gathered in the arms of Jesus.
But honestly, whether she lived or died, the words are still true.
Love has the last word ❤️
Saturday I got to see my little granddaughter,Holly, for the first time and hold her tiny hand. It’s heartbreaking to walk through double doors and down a hallway where alcove after alcove is filled with hopeful parents keeping watch over their precious children.
Many people point to such suffering and ask, “Where is God?”. Or they assert that if there is a God, He is neither good nor loving. Often believers rush to His defense and make things worse by offering weak and illogical arguments that only add confusion and more doubt.
A lot of my time is spent with broken hearts walking broken paths and I know that for many circumstances in this life there are simply no answers. Definitely no answers that will satisfy the deep ache left by profound suffering or loss.
So I don’t offer answers. I don’t toss platitudes like confetti from the sideline as weary ones plod on in the marathon of a fiery trial.
I don’t know why babies are born so very sick or born straight into the arms of Jesus. I don’t understand why on the hall opposite the NICU there is a pediatric cancer ward. I don’t have any idea why one despicable person wreaks havoc on a school full of defenseless children and another kind soul suffers some terrible disease.
I do know that the world is not as God intended or first made it. Sin has wrought calamity from the beginning. Atrophy is the goal of this broken place.
But God…
The Story isn’t over yet. From Genesis to Revelation, Love is writing a new and better ending.
Knowing and trusting in that Truth does not make suffering less painful, it only makes it bearable.
I have no idea how Holly’s life will be woven into the eternal story God is writing but I know she matters. Her beating heart and fragile fingers were created for a purpose. Jesus loves her.
Yesterday she joined her Uncle Dominic in Heaven.
It is unbelievably hard and sad to feel afresh that familiar ache of sorrow.
But our family is choosing to live in that mysterious and supremely uncomfortable space between what we can know in this life and what we will never understand until Eternity. ❤️
thelifeididntchoose 