We are back after a long drive home, far away from Neenie and Poppa. Nourished a bit from being with them ...loved and nurtured in their special way. It felt good to be there. I didn't feel sad. Phoebe was part of our conversation, our memories we replayed ...those first times and then all those years of getting to know each other. "Did you ever see anything Neenie? ever think?" Her eyes fill, "No, I always thought she would command anything she ever did." It was a hard question for me to ask ...because always lurking just beneath the surface is that overwhelming sense I should have known ...I had missed something so terribly obvious, and yet I had missed. But Neenie and Poppa didn't see anything either ...and that gives me some peace ...for now anyway. I'm glad to have been with them, around their table, the birds ...the love.
It was only ascending the hill leaving their house, heading home that the pain unfurled its ugly fingers. Phoebe's hill, where she would skate her heart out, delighting Neenie ....and scaring me. And then heading the other way, further down, heading out. We have that on video, Phoebe, barefoot ..the elegance of her on the longboard ....long, long before it became popular. I asked her to guide me home, keep us safe. We returned home, and still ...she was not here, the nightmare still did not end. The wee hours of our return gave way to the rising sun of Holy Thursday. And I am flat ...disengaged from the atrocities set in motion this night. These days of Christ's passion hold no emotion for me ...I can't wrap my head around it all. These days of the great sacrifice hold no outstretched hand for me, at least one I care to grab hold of. I step to the side, looking on, but not joining. I cover my heart, lower my eyes ...I don't want more pain. Christmas held hope and anticipation for me ...and I was overwhelmed with grace. The infant savior was born, and it was in that manger I could leave Phoebe. And I found peace.
But now ...I have nowhere to go. I am empty, bled dry from sorrow and hurting. You think it will get better, the pain will lessen and the missing won't quite be so much. But there are times, when it comes on like a raging storm ...and I rage against Heaven. Graces? What grace is there in Phoebe's death? Show me! It's not that I don't believe God uses all for the good ...I do. I know somewhere in this design is a plan for eternity. But I am not "full of grace" as Blessed Mother is. How can she know the agony of a pathetic, loud-mouthed mother, like me ...when she was created pure ...free from sin, created to be our Savior's mother? She is FULL OF GRACE ...while I am full of failing. She was created to trust God ...but I must fight with every ounce I have to choose that trusting. How could she possibly know my battle? And why ...why, if He died for our sins in such a horrible, barbaric way ...if He died to free us from our sin ...then why do we still sin ....and why did that cost me my daughter's life? How can I celebrate the Resurrection, when that place across from me at the table is EMPTY still? The Blessed Mother saw her son again ...after he died. She was consoled. I have pictures, her things, memories, but not her to grab hold of ...to hear her voice. I don't think I have the strength to keep believing when I have been so robbed. And I am very, very angry ...and terribly confused.
People tell me that He sees my pain and weeps with me ...that I am at the foot of the cross. All these things before would console me now sound garbled ...unfamiliar. I am not at the foot of the cross ...I am running as far away as I can. I don't want this pain, I just want Phoebe. I don't want any of this part of the story ....I don't want anymore horror. I don't want any more missing and loneliness ...I don't want to be away from my girl. She did not have to die ...and yet she did. There is no sense in nonsense. There is no sense in the death of a seventeen year old girl, full of life and spirit, adventure and daring ...there is no sense in losing a lifetime with Phoebe ...and I am broken and hurting ...but even that will not change that she is gone from me.
This will wash over, the grace will flow again ..and I will understand His love again. I will. But for now, I shake my head and hold my heart, broken from grief ...wondering what kind of father would allow someone whose tried to love Him as best she can to be robbed of one her own children. How could He have let this happen? And why?
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
I know that you know...He died so that we may choose Him. So that there would be darkness and then light. We can't know the whys...not in this life. But in faith we don't need to know why.
ReplyDeleteYour grief journey will not be predictable...nor should it. You will fall, and get up, someone will wipe your face, carry your cross, and then you will fall again. I'm so sorry for your pain.
I hope that the celebration of His resurrection today gave you some peace...the hope that we will be resurrected with Him one day.
I will keep you in prayer this week, as we look forward to the Divine Mercy Sunday. Jesus, I trust in You.
Thank you for the prayers Barbara. For many years I have prayed the Divine Mercy novena leading up to this feast. But this year, I froze. It literally would not come out of my heart, my head or my mouth. So I am very grateful for the remembrance of me and my family, especially Phoebe from others ...it brings great comfort.
ReplyDeleteI just journeyed over to your own blogs ...something caught my eye. Your rosaries are beautiful and I would like to link to your site so others can see and perhaps purchase. Let me know if this is agreeable.
Your dogwood rosary struck me. I have a tree in our backyard that simply was. I didn't give it much thought for the first few years, but then considered cutting it down because it never did anything. But last year, it bloomed and I stood looking at it from my kitchen window with Phoebe, and I remember telling her how it was the first time it revealed itself ...it was a dogwood. I told her about the dogwood in my yard growing up that I had loved. We all had our First Communion pictures taken in front of that tree ...and here was one now in my own yard. We talked about the simplicity of the flower petals ...and I was so excited ...and she smiled at me, knowing how much I love flowers. I'll look forward to that blooming once again ...and am thankful I meandered my way to your posting. God's design is always, always so perfect ...his timing so perfect for our readiness. Imagine, outside my window, next to my statue of the Blessed Mother, my dogwood will bloom ...and I will remember that moment of sharing with Phoebe.
Thank you for your kind comments ...your reaching out ...
Please link if the Spirit moves you. And thank you for sharing your Dogwood story...I'm glad these happy memories are coming freely.
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