“Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth it has always been a sign that you are alive.”
~ Charlotte Bronte
“There is a sacredness in tears, they are not the mark of weakness but of power. They are messengers of overwhelming grief and unspeakable love. “
~Washington Irving
“I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil.”
~ J.R.R. Tolkien
I will not get used to the fact that my son is beyond my reach. I have come to a certain acceptance of it as fact, and acknowledgement of the truth that I cannot change that fact.
The pain hasn’t become less painful, only more familiar. It doesn’t surprise me as often when it pricks my heart anew.
The world goes on. I am a tiny speck in the greater scheme of things and my heartache hardly merits any pause in the machinery of the cosmos.
I have learned to put on the face I need for everyday tasks and to look the part of a functioning human being. But just beneath the surface is a cauldron of emotion that can be exposed in a heartbeat.
I miss my son.
I miss the part of me that was reflected back from the mirror of Dominic.
I miss the family we used to be.
I miss the past when there could be a whole day of laughter without a single tear.
I miss the children I used to have-the ones who knew nothing about irrevocable loss and breathtaking heartache.
I know I’m indulging in selfish introspection and that I should be looking with faith-filled eyes to the glorious future God has promised through Christ.
But today I just can’t.
I won’t be guilted into trying to pretend that I don’t miss all this.
Because I do.
I belong to several bereaved parents online communities and this question comes up again and again-it was the first thing I asked a bereaved mom just after Dominic ran ahead to heaven:
“Will this suffocating pain remain sitting on my chest, smothering the breath and life right out of me? Will I ever be able to stop crying? Will it ALWAYS feel like this?”
The short answer is, “No, it won’t.”
For those of us who follow Jesus, we know that eternity with Him will be filled with inexpressible joy and peace. Whatever pain and sorrow we have carried down below will be swallowed up by redemption and restoration. He has promised both to collect our tears in His bottle and to wipe them away.
The longer answer is, “It depends.”
If I cling tightly to my sorrow, focus my eyes and heart only on what I have lost, then I will continue to feel overwhelmed.
How can it be otherwise?
I have lost more than I can comprehend-both what WAS and WHAT WILL BE. My son is gone, gone, gone. And that is not going to change on this earth.
I can’t play mind games and trick myself into thinking it will. My heart knows the truth and it won’t be fooled no matter how hard I try.
BUT-if I turn and face the pain, embrace it, feel it and work on healthy ways to carry it-then I can begin to breathe again.
There is no way through but through. I have to let my heart feel all the feels. Stuffing or ignoring them is not an option. They will not be ignored forever.
There’s no way around grief and loss: you can dodge all you want, but sooner or later you just have to go into it, through it, and, hopefully, come out the other side. The world you find there will never be the same as the world you left.
Johnny Cash
I can choose to equip myself with tools for working through them. Counseling, journaling, learning to lament, sharing with a trusted friend are all healthy ways to process pain.
And because I believe in Jesus, the most helpful thing I can do in this Valley is look to my Shepherd. When I focus my gaze on Him, on His character and provision, my heart is strengthened.
Make no mistake-the missing and sorrow are still there-faith is not anesthesia! But there are other feelings that take up residence alongside my pain-hope and courage and grace.
I have to choose.
Am I going to work through this pain or simply be crushed by it? Will I allow my Savior to heal my heart or will I refuse His aid?
My heart is still beating either way.
I don’t know just when I figured it out, but somewhere in this Valley it dawned on me-NO day lasts forever.
Many feel like they do.
The day I got the news stretched impossibly long in front of me as calls were made and people came to be wtih us.
But even THAT day ended. Night fell, the earth turned, and another sunrise showed up on cue.
Remembering that truth is how I manage to keep going most of the time. I remind my heart that no matter how hard today is, it will end. I recite the mantra, “No day lasts forever. No day lasts forever” over and over if I have to. I refuse to look at the clock and count the minutes-instead I occupy my mind and hands until they pass of their own accord.
Some days are good. I’m with people I love and doing things that bring joy.
Some days are unbearably hard. The sorrow and missing that I manage to keep in check most of the time bubble up like lava and consume me with their red-hot pain.
It doesn’t matter.
Night falls,
the earth turns
and another sunrise will show up on cue.
We are a people who love a good mystery as long as it leads to a good ending-bad guys vanquished, questions answered, motives revealed and a tidy resolution.
But real life is rarely so neat and squared away.
Just consider your average doctor’s visit. Diagnosis is often a result of trial and error when a simple blood test or throat culture is unavailable to confirm or rule out a particular malady. Yet we blunder forward, trying this and that until something either works or the illness runs its course.
Relationships are even trickier. We stand toe-to-toe with others hoping we understand what they are saying or not saying, feeling or not feeling-all the while forced to act and react in the space between. It’s a wonder we aren’t all at war with one another.
And then there are the big “What ifs?” and “Whys?”
The cosmic questions that rock our world and threaten to undo us.
These are the questions that filled my mind and kept me awake at night after burying my son. Questions I was free to ignore before they took up residence in my soul and echoed in my head with every thump, thump, thump of my beating heart.
It took a very long time for me to learn to live with them unanswered. And there are still moments when I scream aloud and raise my fist to the sky, demanding an accounting.
But most days, I can rest in that space between the asking and the answer-if not exactly at peace-then at least in a state of suspended animation.
And that may really be all God expects of me this side of heaven.
Job never did get any answers.
He stood before God speechless and in awe.
That’s pretty much where I am right now.
I don’t have to like it.
I don’t have to understand it.
I only have to be willing to admit that He is God and I am not.
Job answered God:
“I’m convinced: You can do anything and everything.
Nothing and no one can upset your plans.
You asked, ‘Who is this muddying the water,
ignorantly confusing the issue, second-guessing my purposes?’
I admit it. I was the one. I babbled on about things far beyond me,
made small talk about wonders way over my head.
You told me, ‘Listen, and let me do the talking.
Let me ask the questions. You give the answers.’
I admit I once lived by rumors of you;
now I have it all firsthand—from my own eyes and ears!
I’m sorry—forgive me. I’ll never do that again, I promise!
I’ll never again live on crusts of hearsay, crumbs of rumor.”Job 42:4-6 MSG
It’s really hard to wrap my mind around what exactly Dominic is doing now that he’s not here with me. Sometimes I try to create a narrative or a scene or a story line that gives me something to hold on to.
It’s not easy though.
So I absolutely understand why some parents think of their missing child as their “guardian angel”. But that just doesn’t correspond to what Scripture tells me about what happens after death.
I firmly believe that there is a heaven and that my son is there, in the presence of Jesus and the saints that have gone before.
We are confident, then, and would much prefer to leave our home in the body and come to our home with the Lord.
I Corinthians 5:8 CJB
He’s not an angel nor has he been assigned to look out for me down here with some kind of supernatural power to intervene and make things happen-either good or bad.
He is worshiping with other believers at the feet of Jesus, the Lamb slain before the foundation of the world.
And honestly, that brings me more comfort than the thought that he is watching me suffer his absence down here.
Dominic loved me-still loves me, I believe-and if he were aware of the deep pain his absence causes it would be torture for him.
But in the presence of Christ there is only joy.
You teach me the way of life. In your presence is total celebration. Beautiful things are always in your right hand.
Psalm 16:11 CEB
So he cannot know my pain.
It would break his heart.
It is great consolation in this journey to realize that he is beyond ALL pain and sorrow.
I am deeply thankful for that.
I am thankful for Brene Brown.
She has helped me put words to my feelings, helped me see a way forward when I felt there was none and helped me own my story even though it is hard.
I keep her quotes around to encourage my heart and remind me that I am brave.
This is one of my favorites:
On the other side of child loss, many things that used to be easy just aren’t anymore.
It takes so much energy to get through a day and navigate the minefields of conversation.
I wrote this a few months ago as I was pondering this aspect of my new life:
“One of the things I’ve been forced to embrace in the wake of child loss is that there are very few questions, experiences or feelings that are simple anymore.”
Read the rest here: It’s Complicated
Part of our homeschooling routine was Bible reading.
I’ll never forget the first time I came to Hebrews chapter 11, often referred to as the “Hall of Faith”.
It begins:
Now faith means putting our full confidence in the things we hope for, it means being certain of things we cannot see. It was this kind of faith that won their reputation for the saints of old. And it is after all only by faith that our minds accept as fact that the whole scheme of time and space was created by God’s command—that the world which we can see has come into being through principles which are invisible.
Hebrews 11:1-3 PHILLIP
From there the writer lists those who followed God even when the path was dark, even when the promise was beyond sight and even when it cost them their lives.
I cried.
I remember thinking that maybe one day the children looking at me around that table might face a crisis of faith and I prayed that they would always choose to believe.
I never dreamed that it would be ME that had to wake up each morning and make that choice over and over again.
I’m not talking about the single, life-changing commitment to receive forgiveness through Christ’s blood.
But rather obedience to keep following His lead and strength to walk in His footsteps day after day regardless of how I feel or what I can or cannot see.
The choice I have to make is whether or not to turn my heart toward His, to open my ears to His voice, and to bend my will to accept whatever storms He allows in my life.
Suffering is NOT a choice, but faith is.
thelifeididntchoose 