Memorare

REMEMBER, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thy intercession was left unaided. Inspired with this confidence, I fly to thee, O Virgin of virgins, my Mother; to thee do I come; before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in thy mercy hear and answer me. Amen.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Raw

Passing six months has put me in a different place. I don't know that anyone 'heals' from losing a daughter, but things do change ...or you just grow accustomed to this feeling taking residence in your cells. Either way, you move along, albeit far differently than you would ever want to ...and life changes.
Approaching Holy Week, I think of the apostles ....and believe me, I am not comparing myself to them. I think about the rawness they would feel looking at their teacher, their friend, their Savior, they knew to be the Christ ...the one waited for so long, hanging on the Cross, seemingly powerless. That utter despair that seeps in ...beyond imagination. Aghast ...looking on. Horrified ....trying to make sense of the nonsense of it all. I wonder if it felt like it felt for me for so long ...an open gaping wound, raw and burning, unrelenting. That's how it was ...and yet, the day to day of life, of other children, hid that so well, even from myself at times ...as I lived the silent scream of despair and desperation in losing Phoebe.
I would tell anyone, share the moment of emotion ...it was so new in those first months. And it still is ...will always be for me. My path now is always towards Heaven, towards finding my girl again, laying eyes on my first daughter. But it is different now, six months later. We've had so many people praying for us ....those prayers have held us, kept us literally alive. I am so so grateful. We are living.
But what was once so public, so readily shared, begins to turn inward. The rawness has us begging for anyone with a bandage, a salve ...anything that will ease the pain, offer a reason, a meaning for this agony. Open wounds heal, hopefully. And the healing takes a lifetime ...I don't need bandages right now, I just need to protect my wound. It changes my interface with the world. So many feel the raw pain of loss ...the loss of a girl who sparkled the world. And that is real and painful. The pain of loss is shared with so many who love her, but the pain of living ...becomes more personal, not as easily shared.
For a long time I've leaned into God, knowing only through Him will I ever find true rest. But this is a different place than before ...I am different. Even knowing God is the only answer, I haven't been able to look God in the eye ...Haven't been able to rely on the Blessed Mother like I had before. My heart has been really hurt, wounded, pierced. And I think that only now I'll be able to ask for the real healing to begin. I think the rawness felt like it was keeping me close to Phoebe. But I'm too far out now, its just not as fresh. Everything's changed. All the people that were here, that were meant to be a full part of her life, our lives ....are still here. And all of us will keep Phoebe close ...always. She wasn't just a part of our life before ...she still very much is.
I had the great sense that Phoebe and I were holding hands and ....she just let go. I wish you could all have a tiny glimpse of her ...see what I'm missing. I've been silently screaming for her return ...but that won't be.
Maybe now I need to extend my hand and grab hold of hers in a new way ...and trust my heart will be healing for a long, long time ...until that final day when I get to see her again.

Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.

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