The darkness pulls like a negative polarity tugging the positive to it. It wants to connect – to become inseparable.
The deep of the night wants to swallow up our hope. Grief can be like that – a thief. It can consume us, steal our joy and blind us to any future goodness.
My heart is a broken mess inside of me. There are little pieces – dare I say CHUNKS of it floating around in places it doesn’t belong. There is a Stuart size piece missing; a void that will never completely heal until I am with him again.
You can’t separate them.
When you open your heart to extraordinary love; you leave it open to extraordinary grief.
For every ounce of love you allow inside, there is an equivalent amount of heartache that can get entangled in it. When you become a parent, you realize the very moment the love takes you over, that first precious second, it takes your breath away because somewhere deep inside, you realize the gravity of that love.
Of course, if you focus on the possibility of that loss, you could never truly enjoy the gift.
You are aware (deep down) of the consequences of such love, but you move forward so you can live, really live with the precious life you’ve been given.
Unless you love someone, nothing else makes any sense.
e. e. cummings
To lose a child is the one thing most of us would never want to face.
It was and still is my worst nightmare. It’s unfathomable.
The loving was still worth it.
We would never trade the life and the love of our son for anything. We treasure every moment we had him here. The loss has been almost unbearable – but we press on.
We press on because we love Stuart, and he loved us. We press on because we love our other children and our grandchildren.
We press on because of Jesus.
We have a little while longer here, to make His name known.
So we press on.
We press on through the pain. It’s enormous.
We press on through the hurt. It’s crushing.
We press on through the missing. It’s every second.
We press on through the questions. There are many.
We press on through the visit to the gravesite. It’s hard.
We press on through the special days without him. He’s right here with us.
We press on through the choking sobs, the red eyes, the sleepless nights.
That’s why we press on toward the goal for the upward call of God in Christ Jesus!
Pressing on isn’t easy. Getting out of bed isn’t easy most days. Holding onto hope when the grief is swallowing you whole doesn’t come without pressing on and leaning in to be held by the Only hope we have.
My path looks a bit blurry right now – but I will press on.
He pushes away the darkness that wants to keep me just under the surface. He shows me The Light. The future. The Hope.
What about you? Do you struggle with the hurts of this world? Do you have something to share? Please leave a comment or feel free to email me.
Consider joining me on this journey by subscribing to this blog for updates on posts. I look forward to getting to know you!