The days of darkness have a heaviness, a burden that descends from nowhere. I know now, from reading about grief, particularly grief under these circumstances that is the nature of sorrow. We hopefully progress through grief, making our way through the stages that will finally set us free. Free, at least to reclaim life, to commit to a life given to us. We claim the blessing and the commitment, the obligation to live fully and wholly ...even though the one gone has taken a piece of them with us. Those days, moments, thoughts of despair, the acute awareness and unbelievability of loss, may serve as benchmarks. For most of us, they are short lived ...they last a matter of hours ...hopefully not longer than days. When we crawl out of them we can see that we have indeed moved forward. Maybe only inches ...but it is forward. That is all I ask, that my steps be forward. Overwhelming feelings of loss, sadness, guilt slay us, slay me. These feelings expose and confirm my greatest fears ...I have failed as a mother. This loss is due to me. To be in that place is horrendous ...to admit I have committed the gravest of all acts of motherhood ...pulls downward, spiraling, pulling, yanking me in a whirlpool leading to the darkest places of the human heart. I am not the lover of the innocent I claim to be. There is a disconnect between who I think I am and who I really am. How have I been so blind? How has God entrusted children to such a monster? These are the questions that torment me ...rage steady war against my soul. Surrounding me are friends, women of faith with the burden of crosses beyond most. Each one, striving to know, love and serve God is given some thing far too heavy for the human heart ...the human mother. Yet, over and over, year after year these women walk with a grace so profound and sweet, no one would suspect the weight of their sorrow. They have each led me, mostly by living ...by carrying on. They have heard my wails, my pleading cries to the above ...and they have listened, held my hand, shaken their heads, shed tears to marry mine. Sometimes they whisper words ...sometimes only one. Today a word was whispered to me, just one five letter word ...one I can cling to ....trust. It is the only answer in those moments of extraordinary darkness. The further I pull away, the blacker the darkness comes. Lean into it, trust that through it, there is light ...always ...the light will come. Slowly, sometimes, but it will come.
God does not abandon His own ...He clings to us, stronger than we to Him. Shows us His way ... Today I read in a book "My Son, My Son: A Guide to Healing After Death, Loss or Suicide" something written by the author's 92 year old aunt, after the suicide of the author's 20 year old son.
These days are the winter of the soul,
but spring comes and brings new life
and beauty because of the growth of
roots in the dark
Just a whisper to tell me He is here, and the darkness will always give way to light. The flowers will always bloom. Life springs anew ...even when all is barren, seemingly hollow. Life will go on without Phoebe. I will never like that ...why would I. But life can again be good and I can rest in the knowledge that my darling girl is safe. To honor her, to show her I love her, miss her ...I must live well. I must embrace the blessing of today ...the gift of a life she loved in so many ways. And God, my faith will see me through. The tangible reality of friends ...and children, my own ...my husband point me onward, pull me from the dark.
I have rested by the crib, resistant to leave. "What now, where shall I go?" I think. I took the steps to arrive in Bethlehem ...He carried me most of the way. I wasn't afraid to go because I had a destination. Now that destination is elusive ...unknown. I am afraid. Several times in the bible the angel says "Do not be afraid." Yes, of course, I've thought when reading those words before. Now, I am here in this place of my life ...a place I never desired, never headed towards. Those words are not so easy. I can't just lay the fear to the side. Yet I say them over and over and arrive at that word again ... trust ... It is hard to trust the unknown because it mean relinquishing my will ...my only map is the treasure of the Church ...the Eucharist, the sacraments, the devotions. I will hold on fast because it is only in that Heaven on earth I will find refuge ...I will find rest and be able to go on.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
If we could 'see' the spiritual, I think we would see the bonding and merging and get a much better understanding of the fragmentation which we literally and physically feel in our grief.
ReplyDeleteIt seems to me that grief amplifies the normal ebb and flow of sanctifying grace that each of us carries on with every day. When something comes along to shatter our worlds and we badly need the infusion of sanctifying grace 24/7 to hold on, the focus on our insatiable needs seem to make those peaks and valleys so much more dramatic.
"I have failed as a mother" -- I think all mothers who are grounded in the faith can relate to this at one time or another in our lives. This resonated with me as it was a meme in my world this week when I struggled with my youngest over her attraction with emo style fashion, driving too fast and too close to the cars in front of her and my general concern about the distance from her faith. She is not too happy with me this week and her curt and abrupt demeanor is adding to the stormy sea. Of course, on Christmas, when her father made his once a year call half in the bag and she was nice to him, I felt sorry for myself having carrying the entire burden of having to say the things that need to be said, doing the things that need to be done to provide for her well-being and she is a witch to me.
Mothering is a thankless job. It takes years to hit pay dirt, decades, and all the while, the world is calling them away from Christ and the truth. The exploitations of drinking, drug and sex culture are coming very early in their lives. The battle for their soul intense at a young age. The pope described it this week as an 'eclipse of reason' which the 'sun is setting' and the future of the world is at stake.
In the minor storms I am going through, I am drawing the boundaries. I know you drew the boundaries. At some point, they are separate persons with a will of their own and we cannot make them cross the Rubicon no matter how hard we try. Though we drag them kicking and screaming as much as is humanly possible and we pray, pray, pray when we know things are not within our control.
You did it all. You did, and you do. I know how easy it is to beat ourselves up but I also know that deep down you know you are not just good but a great mother. Imperfect creatures that we all are, you put in heroic efforts to form your children, more than most. Much more than most. Even the Mother of God was unable to control events to save her own Son, the Son of God, from the spiritual madness of the culture that swept Him up and led to His death.
I read once somewhere that a recovery from a life-shattering event is arriving at the destination of disciplining your mind and heart to be in the moments you are in. To stop your mind from wandering to what was, what you would do or could have done differently to change the outcome, what should be to be present to the people and things in every moment. While our feet are not firmly planted at first in our changed lives, the discipline of those visits feel good and natural and in them we realize how much we are missing and gradually spend more time there.
God's blessings and strength as we approach these last few days before the Epiphany.