My niece passed away on New Year's Day...She was 8 years old. She was sledding and went into the road, she was laughing...so happy; she didn't even see the car. One of my biggest strengths in my life has always been belief. Belief that everything happens for a reason and that anything has the capacity for redemption...no matter how tragic. I still believe that, but it's in these moments that I grip that belief with angry and sometimes bitter hands. I refuse to believe that she left this world in vain...for something to end in nothing would be a true tragedy. Something will always remain. It's interesting...it's like my belief is what maintains the balance, even when what keeps me grasping at the fibers of belief seems so contrary. So here I am, refusing to let go and accepting that we may never see the answer...and doing this with deepest sadness. Although, I know, the tender edges bordering our wounds will one day grow into a gentle ache or longing. For now we are delicate, vulnerable and simply overwhelmed. Today my daughter found a scrapbook page that her and her cousin made together. At the top it said their names, followed by "Best Friends". My heart beat against my ribs, threatening to escape. You feel blessed to see evidence of great and beautiful moments, angry for the future moments that are now stolen away, and utterly sad for the empty chair at the table. You battle between optimism and despair, perseverance and the desire to just give in. You never completely fall prey to the despair nor the idea of giving in...you can't...because life keeps on going and the world stops for no one...and you are responsible for more than just your sadness. I imagine, as a mother or a father, your children are attached to your heart by, what appears to be, a fragile piece of string. You come to learn that, this seemingly delicate string bears a strength that is paramount to any other...it's never meant to be severed. So when your child is taken from you...the cord doesn't merely break, it takes a piece of you with it. What I find devastatingly beautiful is...that piece of you didn't actually belong to you...it belongs to her and she had to take it with her. She can't be separated from you...she needs you, so she took you with her. She took the part reserved for her. And, one day, she will replace that piece when you find her in your embrace once again.
So, having said all of that, I am asking those of you who stumble across this message, please pray for my sister and brother-in-law and their two other children. Pray that they can make their way through this labyrinth of emotions, that they can take each step knowing that they are not alone and that God will catch them when they don't feel like they can walk any longer. Pray that they can laugh freely and without regret. Pray for strength for tomorrow and the next day then the next and on and on.
“It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.”
― Lemony Snicket, Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid
