The calendar turned and my heart dropped…October…I love this month and yet, I don’t. It’s full of memories and pain and every year since 1995, I find myself reliving the days that led to Jennifer’s transition to eternal life. I really don’t care for the emotional toll this takes on me. I’m fairly certain my personality twists a bit this time of year. I have a knot in the back of my neck the size of an egg~I know it’s from tension. It’s that anticipation kind of tension. Like when you are watching a movie and you know something bad is going to happen and you tense up and wait…
Two years ago, we experienced loss again in October. September had brought news of a baby coming~we were astounded and ever so joyful! Feeling like Abraham and Sarah, we kept it quiet but anticipated a baby the following May. We had already decided on the name “Will” for a boy because this child was certainly God’s Will. Maria for a girl after the Blessed Mother. How exciting! Max would have a brother or sister to enjoy. In early October my blood work suggested all was not necessarily well. I went in for an ultrasound and we were delightfully surprised to see little baby and a strong heartbeat! Hooray! The two week follow up ultrasound however showed no heart beat. Absolute devastation! We were at the three month mark and our joy was stripped in moments. It hurt my heart and it continues to hurt. I was so angry at God! To bring this surprising news of a new baby and then take it away…in October, no less. A black month made even bleaker.
If you’ve not experienced loss, you might share the thoughts of those who think it is time to “get over it.” If you have experienced loss, you understand that death and loss is not something one “gets over.” Loss becomes a part of us and anniversaries are going to have impact. To truly love someone is to become part of each other. Those who have lost a spouse have truly lost a part of themselves~for God says that the “two become one flesh.” A child without a parent has lost his parent, his friend, his home. I think especially to lose one’s mother is to lose one’s first home. Mind-boggling that at one time, each of us was nestled safely inside the womb of our mother. The physical loss of our first “home” is going to be painful. The loss of our fathers means loss of security and protection. The loss of a child leaves a sense of failure. Failure to protect and provide. Failure to nurture and comfort. These are deep aches.
The pain of loss cannot be left on the surface continuously. It would be too exhausting. Too painful. And so the body puts the pain “away.” Survival requires this. The anniversaries, birthdays, etc. sort of force one to find the “event box,” take it out and examine the contents. It’s painful and yet good. It hurts~like ripping off a bandaid~revealing the wound beneath. God comes in and breathes His Spirit over the wounded memories and allows healing in if we let Him. In the words of the poet, Rumi, “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” The Light is Christ. The ache is good. The tears are good. The hurt is good. The questioning is good. Why? Why did this happen? What did I do wrong? Why me? Why our family? And then the quiet. The answers in our heart that this is not punishment. The slow realization of the good that has come from this. The knowledge that God does not hurt us. He hurts WITH us and FOR us. The realization that we are walking a walk no different than He did, than Mary did. These answers won’t completely satisfy this side of Heaven, but time passes and gradual healing occurs. The Light enters. The Light brings healing.
So, it’s time. It’s October. Time to rip off the bandage. Expose the heart wounds. Own the pain. Seek healing. Cry. Cry Out. Hurt. Pray. Receive His grace. Receive His Light. Recall His love. Feel His Presence. Bless His Name.
“The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
Becoming Holy 