Just recently someone reached out to me, prompted by a friend's loss of their 16 year old son. Since that message came through I've been praying for them, knowing all too well the nightmare they are living. Loss of a child has no human words, it is beyond comprehension, until it happens. And even when it happens, it takes years to understand, accept. My heart wants to wrap around this family and promise ....yes! promise ....that light will break through, that life will one day be okay!
For anyone reading here after having lost a child ...I know...and I am so deeply sorry for your loss. I know it hurts beyond pain you ever believed possible. I know. I know you go over and over the last moments, the last words, everything, and look for the clue, the minute you could have said something different, done something else, gone a different route, made a better dinner ...that would have changed the outcome. I know. I still ask those questions, consider the possibility, take on the blame and shame of what's happened. How could this child slip through my fingers? I know. Believe you are the perfect parent for your child, and you were handpicked just for them. We don't know the mystery of God or of His plan ...His ways elude us.
I've done my share of screaming at God, letting Him know exactly how I felt, that He didn't actually know what He was doing ...or worse ...intentionally inflicting the agony of snatching my precious girl from me for some kind of punishment, some kind 'get back at me'! And still, there are moments I find myself there. The old me would have felt guilty or bad, the new me understands that God knows and understands me far more than I know myself. He can take my rantings.
Our children are with God. Why there and not here? Only God knows.
It is over seven years since Phoebe died. I'm sitting by our Christmas tree, it's lighted but not decorated. The kids want to wait until they are all together, at least as many as can be, before the decorations are placed. I love that! Last night, I sat with one of our girls, just ten when our lives exploded, and talked about how far we've come, how bonded our kids our to each other. They were always close, but there is something different now. Phoebe remains part of them; she's here too. It takes time, but life reinvents and reworks its way into a new normal, a new beautiful! The sadness always lingers, but the joy emerges in small ways.
Hold on, with every ounce you have. Breathe, cry, breathe, cry, breathe ....and trust, as contrary as that sounds. Trust God with this! I know, believe me I do, how hard it is to trust God now. I chose to on a purely intellectual level. There wasn't a shred of emotion in me that felt trusting towards God.
Trust too I'll be praying for you, for all of you ... I was where you are, I know.
And trust, that one day, the sun will shine again. Trust that life will be good again!
It will, I promise!
Tuesday, December 5, 2017
Monday, October 9, 2017
Seven Years
Seven has always been my favorite number. I don't know why; it just is. When I was seven I wore bright red patent leather shoes for Easter with a light blue dress. It didn't match, but I didn't care then. I remember feeling beautiful. I'm not sure if that's why seven has always been the number I love best.
This seven ...I don't like much. The seven year mark since Phoebe passed. It's a good amount of time, but seems like moments in so many ways.
I watch and listen to parents new to this loss, and I remember how life ended that day. Not just Phoebe's but mine too ...and my family's. Life was over. Simple. It was gone. And like those stranded after shipwreck, we began to rebuild bit by bit, tear by tear. We found a new normal, a new way, and made a life again. All God's grace.
There is laughter and adventure, newness weaving through our family life. And yet, it still begs for Phoebe's return, her belonging here hasn't changed. We've just accommodated the loss of her.
Friends reach out, remembering and wanting to take away the pain that remains. It is a long time for them too. There will always be a hint of sorrow no matter how great the joy! The Ressurection only follows the Crucifixion ...one cannot be without the other.
Just the other day I met with an old friend I hadn't seen in nearly 20 years. I hold her responsible for teaching me my faith at a time I was truly ready and eager to learn. She gathered us in, all young mothers, toddlers and babies in tow, to hear lessons on our faith. It's those same women who carried me through this loss, that sat with me in that little rustic classroom. She had left so unexpectedly for a family emergency there were no goodbyes or exchange of addresses. Our little group adjusted and carried on with other teachers trying to offer the charism that came from Mimi. Her faith was so certain and strong, and so beautifully delivered through her heavy Ukrainian accent. It grounded me. I still have the leather bound notebook I wrote in week by week, and look though it once again finding the treasures of faith.
Mimi came back as unexpectedly as she left. I saw her across a crowd and something in my heart settled. I screamed her name and wove my way to her. She stood there with one of my dearest friends, who has never left my side. There was so much to share, what had happened over the years for all of us. We agreed to meet.
When we did, we spoke only briefly of Phoebe. She shared her memory of my little girl, just five. Together they found her a job to water the plants. And she did each time we met, eagerly searching for her cup with her name on it. Those are precious memories that speak to her innocence. Mimi called Phoebe's death a mystery in the sense that it belongs to God and beyond our understanding. And in true Mimi form, she urged me onward. Her eyes spoke volumes "Carolyn, it is very painful this loss, and it cannot be understood now, but you will one day. For now, there is work that must be done, and you must do it with all your heart." And she is right! There is so much work to be done, so many hearts that need tending, so many feet that need lamplight ...way more than I could ever hope to help.
So this weekend started with a strong sense and urge to give back to someone else, to help someone who might be in need. And all weekend they came in various forms. People struggling with such hardship, such distress and despair. It is painful to watch, but so hopeful when they are willing to turn to God and allow His plan to unfold. So often His plans contradict our own. I wrestle with that constantly, and it takes time to notice His way is better.
Seven years is a long time to miss someone, a long, long time. And the aching wears on me.
But ...it is lighter and less threatening than it was in the beginning.
I have the vision to see the beauty around me, the depth of love that resides in my home among my kids and husband. It is safe here, it is safe now. I will be with Phoebe again.
God does not abandon us, ever. Into each pain, each sorrow, each loss ...is a gift. Doesn't lessen the intensity, but gives us the strength and grace we need to carry it.
Pray especially for those parents new to loss, they are living a nightmare.
This seven ...I don't like much. The seven year mark since Phoebe passed. It's a good amount of time, but seems like moments in so many ways.
I watch and listen to parents new to this loss, and I remember how life ended that day. Not just Phoebe's but mine too ...and my family's. Life was over. Simple. It was gone. And like those stranded after shipwreck, we began to rebuild bit by bit, tear by tear. We found a new normal, a new way, and made a life again. All God's grace.
There is laughter and adventure, newness weaving through our family life. And yet, it still begs for Phoebe's return, her belonging here hasn't changed. We've just accommodated the loss of her.
Friends reach out, remembering and wanting to take away the pain that remains. It is a long time for them too. There will always be a hint of sorrow no matter how great the joy! The Ressurection only follows the Crucifixion ...one cannot be without the other.
Just the other day I met with an old friend I hadn't seen in nearly 20 years. I hold her responsible for teaching me my faith at a time I was truly ready and eager to learn. She gathered us in, all young mothers, toddlers and babies in tow, to hear lessons on our faith. It's those same women who carried me through this loss, that sat with me in that little rustic classroom. She had left so unexpectedly for a family emergency there were no goodbyes or exchange of addresses. Our little group adjusted and carried on with other teachers trying to offer the charism that came from Mimi. Her faith was so certain and strong, and so beautifully delivered through her heavy Ukrainian accent. It grounded me. I still have the leather bound notebook I wrote in week by week, and look though it once again finding the treasures of faith.
Mimi came back as unexpectedly as she left. I saw her across a crowd and something in my heart settled. I screamed her name and wove my way to her. She stood there with one of my dearest friends, who has never left my side. There was so much to share, what had happened over the years for all of us. We agreed to meet.
When we did, we spoke only briefly of Phoebe. She shared her memory of my little girl, just five. Together they found her a job to water the plants. And she did each time we met, eagerly searching for her cup with her name on it. Those are precious memories that speak to her innocence. Mimi called Phoebe's death a mystery in the sense that it belongs to God and beyond our understanding. And in true Mimi form, she urged me onward. Her eyes spoke volumes "Carolyn, it is very painful this loss, and it cannot be understood now, but you will one day. For now, there is work that must be done, and you must do it with all your heart." And she is right! There is so much work to be done, so many hearts that need tending, so many feet that need lamplight ...way more than I could ever hope to help.
So this weekend started with a strong sense and urge to give back to someone else, to help someone who might be in need. And all weekend they came in various forms. People struggling with such hardship, such distress and despair. It is painful to watch, but so hopeful when they are willing to turn to God and allow His plan to unfold. So often His plans contradict our own. I wrestle with that constantly, and it takes time to notice His way is better.
Seven years is a long time to miss someone, a long, long time. And the aching wears on me.
But ...it is lighter and less threatening than it was in the beginning.
I have the vision to see the beauty around me, the depth of love that resides in my home among my kids and husband. It is safe here, it is safe now. I will be with Phoebe again.
God does not abandon us, ever. Into each pain, each sorrow, each loss ...is a gift. Doesn't lessen the intensity, but gives us the strength and grace we need to carry it.
Pray especially for those parents new to loss, they are living a nightmare.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)