Another's journey through grief, and how true it is

This post was written earlier in the week.....I know that today is Father's Day, but honestly, I am not ready to face the day yet, so I'll save that post for an upcoming day. (and will attempt to articulate why this day is so hard for me...)

"What bereaved parents want you to know (but may not say)" is a blog that has been showing up on Facebook quite often.  A friend sent me the link a few weeks ago before I saw it on Facebook.  I'm glad she did, it gave me the opportunity to digest and prepare my heart for the repeat appearances.

While I have written a similar blog to this one, Walk Beside Me, I appreciate how Kathleen Duncan articulates some of the feelings that grieving parents have, yet are so hard to say.  Each path of grief is different, each person feels it, deals with it and expresses it differently.  However, there were a few points she made that I really could identify with.  So from the blog, My Journey Through Grief into Grace, a few nuggets of truth:

People of faith who have lost a child are often seen as brave and strong.
We have been through something that no parent wants to experience: the death of a child.
We are not strong or brave. We endure because we must; we have no choice. We have other family members that need us. We have “good works which God prepared in advance for us to do”. We have jobs and homes to care for. We cannot just give up, find a hole to crawl in, and quit living — though we sometimes wish we could.

We are walking through life because that is what we do – we go on. We live. We breathe. We work. And we attend church and school functions because we must. We know that God called our child Home and left us here on earth for His purpose. We know we must persevere and trust Him to help us and to heal us. We do not go on because we are tough or brave or strong. Because the truth is that we are none of those things.  We are most often weak, and tired, and broken.

Our reality is often different than what we show our friends, our coworkers, and the public around us.
We rarely show others the true depth of our pain. It is too personal and too raw to show others who have not experienced it themselves; we know that people cannot understand the sorrow of losing a child unless they have walked this path. And we hope and pray that none of our friends ever go through what we have experienced.

We know that our pain also makes you feel helpless – there is nothing that you or anyone else can do to change our situation. Our child is gone. We will not see him again until our great reunion in Heaven.

We also don’t want to “lose it” because it is so hard to get control once the tears start flowing.
At first, the tears of a bereaved parent are not “healing tears”. They are tears of a deep, intense sorrow like none other. They are exhausting and embarrassing. We have had friends try to comfort us and tell us it will be okay. It will not be okay! Our child is dead! As time goes on, and if we do the right kinds of “soul care” to help us heal, the tears change to healing tears. But it takes a long time.

We are afraid, sometimes, that if the tears start, they won’t stop. So we try hard not to let them start.

And the tears remind us of that horrible physical grief-pain that lasted so long.  We are reminded of waking up to realize this is not some terrible nightmare. It is our reality now. We are bereaved parents.  (At times, my pain still feels so new that this paragraph, these words are me...)

So we hide our pain.
We smile and laugh and go on living. We thank you when you tell us again how sorry you are and how much you miss our kid. We tell you we are doing well and that God is good.

God IS good. He IS faithful. He IS healing our broken hearts. We DO have joy and peace.  We DO have moments of happiness and fun-filled laughter. We will be healed and go on living.  But our life has changed and we will never be quite the same as we were before burying our child.

As I read the following point she made, I wanted to start talking to my computer saying, "YES! That is exactly how I feel every single Sunday.  The difference is that some days I am able to hold it together better than others.....

Church is particularly difficult.  We may not know why, but we tend to get emotional at church. Even those of us who never cried at church before often cry now.  It is not that we are sad in church. It is just that being in worship, singing, and being in His presence bring the emotions to the surface.  For us, the reality of Heaven, Hell and life after death is more pronounced.  We are often overwhelmed by God’s love and greatness.  By His omnipotence.  By His grace and love that caused Him to send His only Son to die for me.  The reality of all of this is so…well, REAL!  If we cry at church, don’t try to comfort us and tell us it’s going to be okay or that you understand.  Just let us cry.   (Tears in Church, Tears in Church Part Two)  

Amen!  So true...

As we continue through this painful time of approaching the first year mark, I know that we will find our hope and strength to take each new step in our faith in Christ Jesus.  The heartbreaking thing is that I know there are parents that have not reached that point.  There are parents that don't have the hope to hold on to knowing they will spend eternity with their child like Tom and I have.  There are parents that are still in the dark depths of pain and grief and don't know which way is up.

If I am honest with you, I sometimes still have those days myself.  However, I know that beyond the pain and heartbreak, God has called us to this life for a purpose.  Even in those dark days, I will continue to say my God is good.  Knowing that Amanda will not have to deal with the sin in this world and is in perfect glory with our Lord and Savior doesn't erase the pain, but it always gives me a hope and a peace to remember - even in the darkness.