They also say we’re in a “season” and I agreed until I realize seasons change and some things about our life will never change. So, I’ve dubbed it ‘new life’ instead.
When we went through the phases of infants, toddlers, then children, we had a lot of learning, falls, bumps and bruises before things finally came together. How many times did we try to get up on all fours only to fall flat before we finally crawled? How many awkward movements did we make before we finally took that first tiny step? How many of those before we were really walking? And what about learning to ride a bicycle?
In this new life we’re living, there are a lot of firsts; and with each one comes bumps, bruises and pain before finally “getting it right.” After the loss of a child, we come out of the numbness only to find ourselves laying face-down, flattened by the shock and then the reality of it all. We find ourselves at the beginning of life as if fresh out of the womb. Everything is different.
We hear people quoting verses and talking about God having a plan, or God needing another angel or you’re strong, you’re gonna make it. Your faith and hope is in God. I can only imagine these words are akin to the jibberish an infant hears as the adults in their world begin to communicate with them. We hear them but nothing makes much sense. True, we’re now adults and understand yet still, the words make no sense. Sometimes they just make us feel worse and put added pressure upon our grieving hearts.
It’s a new world we must learn to live in. Our perspective of all things are now through the eyes of our loss. We often look at other families and see nothing but the gaping hole in our own. We watch new mothers with their infants and remember our own experiences and memories. We experience friends sharing pictures of their growing children and the only new pictures we have to share are the newest flower arrangement at a grave site. Each time, we must wade through the emotions that come with the moments. We attend parties and go through the motions of enjoyment while we’re often miserable and aching inside. We don’t always feel free to explain ourselves as to why we avoid certain situations or try to protect ourselves. It makes perfect sense to us though.
Often times, we feel we can’t articulate our feelings and emotions clearly so they can be understood by others. This causes us to feel misunderstood or judged, which leads us to withdraw, which in turn leads us to immense, indescribable loneliness.
Like a baby needs someone to ‘figure them out’ - is the diaper wet, are they hungry or tired, do they just need to be held? - we often don’t understand exactly what we’re feeling and need safe people to help us process. It takes special, dedicated people who love us deeply to stick around during this time in our lives. Just like a baby, we’re learning to live in this new world and it’s hard work. It doesn’t happen overnight nor does it come easily.
We finally trudge through the first year of loss, with all its ‘firsts’, and get through the numbness and shock of it all only to enter year two and be disheartened as we find we must get through it all once again. It feels overwhelming and somewhat impossible. The only hope is knowing we did actually make it through the first year and God will bring us through once again. They often say year two is worse for this very reason. Sometimes we think all the firsts have passed us by, only to find ourselves with still more firsts in the most unlikely and unexpected places. This will always be.
Songs, smells, the most innocent of things often bring about tidal waves of grief into our day. (For me, the song I’ll Be Home For Christmas now makes my heart quake and ache each time I hear it. I just realized this the other day.) It can happen in an instant without warning. This can become exhausting as we find ourselves being on guard constantly. It can also be a bit embarrassing and we may find ourselves feeling weak and awkward around even friends.
Memories wash over us and as we savor them we also ache with longing. This can even be physical. Some days we find we just can’t anymore. It’s a time of life to learn the signs of needing to step back and give ourselves grace and space. We aren’t who we once were. We tire easier. Things unnerve us that used to not. Our priorities change. We need to take care of ourselves in different ways than ever before. Every aspect of our lives are touched by grief. Physical. Mental and emotional. Spiritual. Social. Nothing goes untouched.
This can bring about feelings of instability, hopelessness and even depression - which are all stages of grief most people experience. It’s during this time that we must remember that our pain and grief isn’t a reflection of our faith. Rather, that our faith allows us to experience the pain while keeping us rooted and committed to the journey.
Remember the bumps and bruises we had as a child. It’s hard to remember that everything we’re feeling is normal and we’re on a long journey that will never end until we find ourselves with the Lord for eternity. We may need someone to continually remind us of this fact; as a parent who applies a bandage to a cut we’ve received. With everything else that is going on in our lives, feeling we are failing spiritually is an added weight we don’t need.
The enemy of our soul most definitely doesn’t care that we’re grieving. He never takes a break or goes easy on us - even during this time of life. This is one reason why people walk away from God. The constant battle is real and must be won one moment at a time. The struggle is real.
We need reinforcements from safe people in our lives. Be thankful for those who offer a safe place, free from judgement. Be grateful for those who come beside you and help you know who you are in spite of loss, for those who come near and won’t be scared away, and for those wise, patient souls who don’t try to push too hard at the wrong times. We are very fragile during this stage of life.
Just as a child can be scarred for life, we too can obtain scars which will inhibit our healing. Anything that doesn’t help us grieve correctly will make this journey longer and more difficult. We must be and find others who will be kind to us and extend grace and mercy without measure.
As we walk this road we’ve been thrown on, we can take comfort in knowing God is there even when we don’t see or feel Him. He’s promised to never leave or forsake us. Even though we may feel in the pit of despair, He is faithful and ever attending to us. Our hope must lie in Him. We have this hope, that He will bring us through “this” moment too, just as He has the ones right past now. It is a new life. We are different. Yet, He is the same yesterday, today and forever. Others may leave us but He will never. Nothing can separate us from His love.
This is grief. It’s not fair. Or normal. Do what you need to do in this moment. Express it. Feel it. Experience it. Remember your loved one. Be thankful for the gift of that special someone in your life and don’t feel ashamed for missing them nor for how you may express yourself doing so. This is what grieving is, doing the work, feeling the pain and processing it. This is healing and growth.
This is love...that is still alive despite the loss that has been endured. We grieve because we have loved. We live because we have loved. And most importantly, God is the love that wraps us up safely and mends our hearts to be whole even with a hole present. He doesn’t make it disappear nor does He fill it. He’s simply there. How well I am learning the value of casting my cares upon Him these days. An offer I can’t refuse.
It’s an unique gift we have been entrusted with - the loss of a child, to be in the bereaved parent club...so we may eventually be a help and blessing to someone else who may be walking alongside of us on this altered, backward road of life. We need each other to walk us home.
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