Thank God for Septembers

 

August comes to a screeching close,

And we come face to face with September. 

My heart doesn’t want to flip the calendar,

Can’t we just skip it, I cry, I don’t want to remember. 

I recall hearing my mom and ask my dad many times while growing up, “Do you remember what we were doing this time ___ years ago today?”

It usually had something to do with the day they met or got engaged, got married, had kids or some important milestone in their life. I always waited eagerly to see if dad could come up with the correct answer. 

Yeah, well, I’m having difficulty with that “remember when” game right now. 

I have a date this month which I can reminisce about. The good stuff. My daughter was born in September 27, 1996.  One of the best days of my life! The same date also reminds me of the worst day of my life. September 27, 2017, a part of me died when my firstborn was taken from this life following a tragic motorcycle accident. 

Needless to say, I’m hesitant for the calendar to turn over today. Yesterday, when I realized August has 31 days and it wasn’t yet September 1, I was so relieved. I suppose that might sound odd, but there are just some events you’d rather not remember or at least not have to relive. 

I’ve felt it coming on for weeks now. Grief anniversaries are not enjoyable celebrations, they are days which are full of hard work. Of being courageous. Of remembering every detail you wish never happened. The days when you must remind yourself to breathe and talk your heart into continuing to beat. The days you remind yourself how strong you are because grief isn’t made for sissies. The days you feel too weak to live through, yet you remind yourself God has brought you through thus far and He won’t leave you now. 

Yes, they say a picture paints a thousand words, but right now I cannot even find a picture to relate the hurt and pain I feel. 

You long to be able to open up and share what your feeling, but the words all seem so lacking. How do you properly explain a piece of you has died? That there’s a huge hole in your heart that cannot be filled. That the pain you feel is always there but magnified even more on these days.

Yes, grief isn’t a neat little package that can be wrapped up and hid away. It’s a daily weight which never goes away, we just learn to carry it with a little more grace and finesse throughout each passing moment.

Grief is about what we’ve lost, about the ugly moments in life. All we have left are the random memories to hold onto. We cannot touch nor hold our child in our arms, we cannot hear their voice nor smell their scent any longer. We don’t have special days ahead to share. That is painful! Just take a moment and consider how you might feel, but know I’d never want you to live through it. 

In fact, I started not to post this because I don’t want it to sound like I’m having a pity party...until I realized that if it was someone else feeling this way, I wouldn’t call it a pity party. You’d, in my opinion, have a right to hurt and be sad - and I’d be sorrowful with you. 

This is what child loss and grief look like. It’s more than losing them, it’s dealing with empty arms and no new memories. It makes you not want to see September. 

Yet, I must walk on, knowing that I’m weak and undone right now, and that’s okay. I must walk on through all the remember when’s. I will walk on, with sorrowful tears in my eyes and precious memories in my heart. And when I can walk no further, the Lord will carry me along until I can stand once again. 

Yes, my knees have been too weak to stand before, yet He’s always been right there with me. 

So, although I don’t want to see September, it’s required that I must. 

And, at the end of September, I’ll have another chapter to add to my story, of how God brought me through this valley and held my heart close to His. The words will come again slowly, but will never ever truly describe and relate the fullness of the pain nor the joy of the memories I still hold onto. My son was mine to have and to hold for an allotted time, but he belonged to God all the while. This I know. 

I don’t want to see September nor relive the pain and experience the memories; but I WILL see every single day and somehow manage to thank God through it all. 

September is my story, it’s my testimony. 

Thank God for Septembers. 

*If you know a grieving mom, take a moment to bless, encourage and lift her up. We can’t be “fixed” and it will never be “all better”, but just give us an attentive ear, free of judgement, and space to share our loves with you. No matter how many years it’s been, we still long to share just like you; but there are no new memories for us to make, we only have our painful present and yesterdays. Don’t be uncomfortable, we only desire your presence. It makes all the difference in the world for someone to open the door, offer an ear, a concerned heart, and maybe a comforting hug. The little things make a huge difference.