Parting
In our minds, a timer is ticking. It’s ticking off moments, letting us know how long we have to sort through things. We find ourselves rushing through tasks, meals, conversations to get to the next thing. We have planners and calendars stacked with appointments, meetings, chores. And always the clock is counting down. But what do we do with ambition when parting takes place? Can we recover from grief?
What do we do when the clock is broken? When we have lost someone we love and they are taken from us forever? All that is left seems to be an empty, breathtaking pain and we wonder, “How do we continue?”
Recover from Grief: Waiting
I sit on the couch after breakfast most mornings with a journal, my Bible, and my favorite pens. I snuggle beneath a blanket and heating pads and ache. My head radiates pain from the daily debilitating migraines while my soul writhes from missing my sister.
It has been ten months since Joy was killed by a truck. Even before this fatal accident, she had a brain-injury and I was her caregiver. At some point in our lives, each member of my family was depended on to care for her most basic and intimate needs. It’s been ten months since I’ve brushed her hair, taken her for a walk, helped her get showered. After ten months, you would think that the timer would have reset, that grief would have resolved and I would have moved on. But only now as I receive therapy am I beginning to process her loss. And so, here I sit, staring in front of me, waiting and waiting and waiting for the emotions I buried to surface so we can at last deal with them.
Recover from Grief: Persevering
After living for years with a chronic illness, I thought I understood what it took to process difficult things. But, I bet you understand when I say that as soon as you think you have life figured out, you find out you don’t. Maybe something horrible happens and you have to scramble to learn a new way of living. Just a few years ago, I struggled with a depression so deep that even though I trust in Jesus Christ for my salvation, I despaired of life. I wanted to die and contemplated ending my life. A good Christian girl shouldn’t struggle like that, I believed. I felt like a failure, a horrible wife and mother and sister.
God met me in that deep, dark place, just like He is meeting me now. I even wrote a book about it. Here I am again, though, because as I am processing the loss of Joy, I am struggling with suicidal thoughts. But I have learned that I don’t have to, nor should I, try to fight this battle alone. As I said before, I am receiving counseling. I am also checking in with trusted friends and letting them know how I’m doing. They are lifting me up in prayer and it is amazing how this simple thing is so powerful. In those dark, bleak moments when I want to find a way out of this life to escape the pain, God reminds me He is with me through His people who love me.
Recover from Grief: Loving and Affirming
The most amazing thing about this group of people is the way they accept where I am. The way they aren’t pushing me to produce something out of my grief. I do. I look at my 30,000-word manuscript “Life with Joy” and feel the pressure to make it into something beautiful, something that will make all the pain worthwhile. But I can’t. Every time I think I can try, it’s like I break a little more.
I won’t say no one has said that they don’t expect something beautiful to come out of all this sorrow. I’ve said it here before, I know that God uses these things for good. (see Romans 8:28) But let me be clear and painfully honest, I can’t see that right now. In this moment, the clock has stopped and I hang by a slender thread to the grace of God. No words reach the loss I feel and even though my head knows something wonderful is being worked out in the eternal realm, my temporal self cannot tolerate the stretch. I can’t get from here to there. For the first time in my life instead of pushing myself to make it happen, I’m going to accept where I am.
Ambition
So, ambition, back off, back down, back away. I can’t yet.
Maybe you are here with me in this rocky place where we cling to faith. We can’t see ahead or behind. Our lips recount blessings while crying over our loss. We use each moment of each day to continue to breathe.
And that’s enough. For now, my friend, it has to be enough.
JacQueline is the author of Memoirs of a Headcase: Held by the God of Hope as well as The Journey series, a young adult fantasy retelling Rapunzel’s misadventures. She uses her writing to share stories of hope and joy. JacQueline currently lives in North Alabama with her karate husband and three book-crazy kids. All of her writing is from her own experience and based on her opinion. It should never be substituted for a professional therapist.
A special “thank you” to Sheryl Chan for offering the link-up for those suffering from chronic illness.
Photo Credit: Dylan Nolte, Kinga Chicewicz, Nathan Dumlao.
Graphic Design for Social Media: JacQueline Vaughn Roe, contact here to receive help with your social media images.
