No Quick Fix
"Oh that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest. Indeed, I would wander far off, and remain in the wilderness. I would hasten my escape from the windy storm and tempest" (Psalm 55:6-8)
There is no quick fix for grief. The constant ups and downs can be so wearisome. I long for relief from the overwhelming pain that comes swooping in over and over and over.
Some days, I feel like I can do this; I'm able to accomplish something. I am able to do something for someone else. I am coasting along, doing the next thing. I feel like my nose is actually above the water and maybe we've got this.
And other days, the ability I had to carry on comes crashing down. I can't think, I can't see my way through. I don't think I can keep going. This pain is too heavy of a burden to carry. I am filled with anguish as I struggle for the billionth time, wondering how long I can keep facing these waves. And I wonder why God has allowed this to happen to us, why He took Owen from this life. I cry and wail as I grieve. I rock and moan, at times my body will even contort under the awful weight of this unbearable pain. I still ache to hold my precious oldest boy and to hear his voice, to experience him again as part of our family here on this earth. When those hard moments hit, I just want to fly away, to run away, to hide from this - like David in Psalm 55.
We are so weak. Just look at how easily we are tossed to and fro, up and down in this tempest of grief. If we were left to ourselves, we would be drowned long ago in these overwhelming and stormy waters. But God, in His infinite grace and mercy, has continued to guide us, to uphold us, and to supply us with the strength we lack to continue on. In the roaring tempest, He directs our eyes to Him. Looking up to Him helps our nose stay above the waters that threaten to drown us.
This may be controversial, but I do not like the word healing in regards to grief. For me, it carries the connotation of getting better or getting over something. My child died. That is a wound I will carry for the rest of my life - like a thorn in the flesh (2Corinthians 12:7). Don't expect me to heal from that. Don't expect me to get better from that.
So what then? Well, God tells us that His grace is sufficient for us and His strength will help us (2Corinthians 12:9) as we learn to move forward, to carry on while carrying this wound of all wounds. And that is a much preferred way of looking at it: that with the help of the Lord, over time we will learn to move forward, to continue taking the next step. You cannot rush grief. No one can take away the pain that comes with losing your child (or any dear loved one). God will grant us the strength we need to bear the burden of our deep pain. And maybe, one day, that pain will not stab at our hearts as often as it does now.
Experiencing grief takes patience and grace from ourselves and from those around us. I find myself feeling frustrated at times with how Owen's death has affected me. At just over a year since his death, I still have no desire for touching the piano (I used to play the piano a lot, but I haven't been able to get back into it. In fact, I have hardly touched it.). I still have a very very hard time attending church, going to town, going into stores, being in groups of people, or going to Owen and Logan's school. There are many reasons why all these things are so difficult for me. I have tried to push through and attend things. I will do the bare minimum if I have to. But I am learning that I suffer afterward if I overdo it. I literally cannot do the things I used to be able to do.
I have always been more introverted, but that has been made so much worse now. Since Owen died, I cannot handle the busyness of being around lots of people - the sheer number of different faces, the conversations, having to judge if someone is safe to be honest with or else having to pretend I'm ok when I'm not. I used to smile all the time, but smiling exhausts me. I cannot handle lots of noise or bright lights - a combination in most stores or in many group settings. I even struggle with how many cars are driving around me on the road and trying to keep track of everything around me. My brain has been completely changed and I just cannot compute all these things - which has definitely made me a boring person in many regards. And that's just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the effects Owen's death has had on me (and this is common for other bereaved parents).
If you are sitting here not understanding how some of these things can be so hard for me, that's ok. I hope you never have to understand how hard living after child loss can be and how even the smallest things can carry such heaviness.
God promises to help us and provide the peace we need in due time. However, receiving that peace comes at different times for everyone - some are at peace with the Lord's will right away after experiencing severe trials, while others find themselves wrestling for a period of time before really being able to accept that peace which surpasses all understanding (Philippians 4:7).
I felt at peace during Owen's cancer journey. I even wrote about that peace when Owen was still alive. But in all honesty, that peace I did have has not been as present for most of my grief journey. It has taken much wrestling and much pleading for God's grace and help in my grief. I have struggled with Owen's death more than I could ever put into words.
But I can say with thankfulness that, even though still few and far between, there have been moments where I feel a peace that could only come from our Heavenly Father.
Writing has been a way of processing for me. My grief has been beyond messy. I don't share everything because I would scare you with what losing a child can really do to you. My mind is always going, always thinking, always pondering. Some days I feel like a complete mess and cannot keep my life straight. Writing things down or writing things out for others to read has been a way for me to make sense of what I am experiencing and how I am feeling. It also helps me to better see the Lord's nearness in this life and to share how I see God and Who He is to me (and Who He can be to you!).
I want everyone to see that God really can handle the messy. I want you to know that if you continue to seek God in your own pain or trials, that He will be near to you and He won't forsake you. I want you to realize the beauty that can be found in including Him in every part of your life - every struggle, every doubt, every fear, every hurt, every joy, every accomplishment. Make God a part of it all.
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