Yesterday my youngest daughter called from work and didn’t feel well. She let me know she believed she had eaten something that might have been bad, just food poisoning coming on. I touched base with her throughout the rest of the day. When she didn’t arrive home as fast as normal, I became fearful. I talked myself down from the ledge. She called and said she had to make a stop; in fact, I believe it turned in to 2 stops in what is a normal 15-minute drive home. I knew she was sick.
When she arrived home, I realized she was ok, but really sick. My fear set in like a stranger setting up a homestead inside my home. It had no care for any of my thoughts, feelings or emotions. Fear just arrived and moved right in.
You may ask why this is such a big deal? Why should you care? This is a big deal because THIS, this is the life you realize you lead after you have had a child die. Everything becomes bigger than life with your family members that are still here on earth with you. It just does. Usually I can work through it and calm my anxiousness. This time was different.
This time was different, like I didn’t belong in the place I was standing. I began to hear myself call out to My Heavenly Father to heal her right now. I don’t want her sick. But I soon realized, I COULD NOT PRAY THAT PRAYER. I could not ask Him to heal her, last time I did that, HE did. He completely healed our oldest daughter from everything this world put on you. He took her to heaven with him. I KNOW THIS. But I don’t have to like it, not yet.
I find myself feeling as though I need to reassure those people around me, the praying ones, the ones that claim they are a Christian, and those that have had all their prayers answered the way they feel is best for them. Those that say they are praying for me, the ones that tell me it will all return (my prayer life that is), and those that say there is a plan.
Believe me when I say, I am no less fortunate than any of you. But I am not alone, I am just mending. I am filling back up. My vessel was not just emptied, it was shattered and broken. Most pieces will not ever be found. And for this reason, I ache. I want to remember how. I want the words to never again come out stale or just empty.
I realized in that moment of wanting and aching to pray, I could not pray; but I could believe. I cannot pray as I used to, but I do hold onto hope. Hope that I will be able to pray with words as I used to. Those roots of run very deep. Especially now.
None of this is my fault, its not Gods fault. It is a senseless awful thing that happened for no reason. I am so mad about it all, but I am in peace. I still believe that God is good, and I know He can bare my inability to pray. I know He can carry the weight of it. I am not angry with God, I love my God desperately, but I also know I must find my way back to Him.
I have hope. I have a strong faith, I just realized I could not pray. And again, THIS overwhelmed me. THIS thing called child loss, took the very breath out of me. In answering the question, why should I care? This is another reason why you should care. Those who are walking on this road (life after losing a child), are never going to be able again, walk on a scenic view or easy street. Things will pop up and knock our feet from under us at the weirdest times. So, we will take time outs from time to time. But we want to return. We want to be whole again. We want to show our peace.
Yes, our youngest daughter is doing better. Looks like it is a stomach virus. To most, that is such a little thing, especially when your “child” is an adult child. But for me, it was another stop in the road in a place I never asked to be.