Tomorrow is the feast of St. Raphael. I've told my kids to beg his intercession tomorrow for the prayers and petitions that reside deep inside. I have a few of my own.
I wish I could write here how things are so much better, that emotionally I feel more whole, less wounded, more invested in the richness of day to day living. I wish I could write about God's great, strong arms wrapping me safely, protecting me from the winds and the rain. I wish I could write today about my assurance that I will see Phoebe soon, when God determines my time. But I can't. The business, the necessity of grieving a child are like no other grief, no other pain. It is a fight every day to keep the tears at bay, to smile and laugh. There is little spontaneity in that part of life. I do force it, beg for it ...ask God to keep me in the forefront of life for my kids. They want normal lives. They want life to be good. My children don't want a mom who's sad, or a dad out of steam without the glimmer in his eyes. And so the effort to give them that is enormous and constant ...and I think maybe one day in the years to come I can immerse myself for a bit in the deepest sadness I have ever known ...beyond all imagination. Maybe then I can just call to her as long as I need and let the great want of my soul unleash. A part of every parent dies when their child dies ...we chase them, desperate for a glimpse, parched for their smile ...their way.
I have had moments when it feels easier, I breath better, but the overwhelming loss is ever present and there are no words to capture. We can barely talk, my husband and I, about her ...about our Phoebe, and all she meant to us. I start and he raises a hand, the pain sketched deeply in his face. "I can't," he'll say. "Its surprising we still believe in God," I said. "I wonder if God believes in us," he answers. And he captures so much of what I think and feel. This story is too long and tragic, too broken and unfinished to reflect two people loved by God. I'm grasping at a life lived for Him. If it weren't for the people who stay, who spill tears with us and for us, for the ones that reach out and take us broken and empty ....still, even with the yuckiness of what's happened, the imperfection, the cruel humanness of our lives, if it weren't for them ...those dear, dear souls willing to be dirty and sidelined with us, I don't think I could have held on to my faith.
We see people ahead of us on this unwanted journey, they catch our eyes and say more than any words ever could. They steady me while they see inside of me screaming "NO, God NO!" How could you make this harder now? worse? Give me the pain of before ...this is too, too deep. And their eyes fill with tears ...because they know this road ...and there is no way to prepare for it. I am at His mercy, more than ever.
May St. Raphael guide us and protect us on this journey.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
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