Saturday, August 24, 2013

I Will Always Miss My Arm

Recently, a dear friend lost her son. Although he battled depression, it was assumed that his death might have been a suicide but it wasn't. Nonetheless, his death has left an enormous hole in her, her family and friends.

She poured her heart of her son's loss on her Facebook this week. It touched me so much, I asked if I could post it here on my blog. For me, I find it difficult to inquire how someone is doing after such a devastation. Her post helped me not only to understand what she is going through, but how I might be able to be there for her and for others.  Perhaps her post will help you think about how to approach someone when they've lost a loved one, especially a child.

From my friend:


"I have been asked how I am doing, so many times I needed to really access things. What is it like? Well, I think it’s like having my left arm cut off. I will NEVER get over it. What about time healing all wounds? Yes, I have experienced that in other losses, but this one is crippling me. I rather liked that arm and miss it every single day and every time I go to use it, and had future plans for it. But don’t worry…I will learn to adapt and survive. That’s something I am stellar in. But I will be doing it all… missing my darn arm! 

So I find that I’m suddenly caught in a vortex of very conflicting thoughts: 

Awareness every waking second I will never talk to my second son, or touch him, or kiss the top of his thick beautiful, usually unruly, head of hair. Then in response for him to never again to reach up & hug me goodnight, and say, “I love ya mom!” To never pray with him again, or spend hours discussing all the deep amazing truths he seemed to understand so simply in the Word; or quote so effortlessly to align & enhance our prayers & sorrows in so perfectly. I mean he knew Job, and Ecclesiastes and how Jesus was the upside of all our whoas.

What I grieve for is the hole he left in this world where he should have gotten that amazing break in a lab somewhere discovering some scientific or medical miracle about the brain he dreamed of that was waiting to spill out of his keen mind, maybe with a team of scientists behind him, in which he would have to use all these years of being humbled to balance the elation of success.. We talked about God using his low times to balance the high times, to apply all the lessons learned from his sufferings into helping those with similar vexations. He suffered more than anyone I know. 

He had such a strong hope to father his own children kindly, love a wife honestly, and support them all unselfishly. 

The lost potential seems a waste to me as a mom. I experienced his immense intellect combined with his love for God’s Word. That to me, is the biggest loss to us all. The misuse of what could have been. 

So then, God intervened, as only HE can. Now Bryan is whole, complete in Christ, given a crown of glory that will never fade away. He sees Jesus and he is LIKE Jesus in a way I cannot comprehend from my earthly vantage point. He has been gathered unto the Chief Shepherd. Held next to his Shepherd’s bosom, to be cared for and held as much as they want. No shame any longer; out of the prison of his body, freely worshipping.

So, here we are left to feel truly happy for Bryan, but we are left behind and so sad for ourselves. Talk about ultimate selfless love as his mom? I STILL want what’s best for him, so I choose to let him go by claiming it is okay with my soul, because I trust my Chief Shepherd, Jesus, too.



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