Two weeks ago at 4:10 a.m., my dearest friend left this
earth for a greater place. If I am honest with you, waking up on that Sunday
afternoon, I wasn’t sure that I would make it to this day. I had no clue how I
could possibly continue on with life after being slapped in the face by the
reality of cancer. The reality that meant my sweet Pierce was gone. I typed a
note on my phone that afternoon, probably around this time, and have followed
that same routine each day. I want to share them with you today, because in the
days following Pierce’s death I have search and searched the internet for a “magic”
lesson, Scripture or prayer to get me through this, and (mostly) came up empty
handed. Grief is very personal, and there isn’t a simple fix to get through
losing someone you love, but maybe, just maybe there is someone searching for
that today and if so, I pray these lessons help you on your road to feeling “OK”
again.
Grief is a deep, dark
pit. When I think of grief, the first thing that comes to my mind is a pit
dug in the ground. I feel like this pit is a place of surrender, but not the
good type of surrender, the type of surrender that causes us to want to give up
on life. I stayed for a while in that pit, but soon realized that … .
We can’t stay in the pit
forever. This is going to be one of the most transparent things that I have
ever written, and I guess this second lesson is a good place to start with
that, because there are days that I want to stay in the pit. If you’ve
experienced loss, I would be willing to bet that there are days when you’ve
wanted to stay in the pit as well. The amazing thing about life though, is that
it keeps going. I remember walking into Wal-Mart the first time after Piece
died and being so confused by people living life around me, when mine had just
fallen apart. I remember wanting to just sit on the floor on the linen aisle and
surrender to the pit. But, we can’t. We can’t stay in the pit forever.
Praise gets us out of
the pit. I am truly still working on this. Choosing to praise God with a
broken heart feels absolutely impossible and silly. However, I know that even in
the darkest moments of being in the pit, praise is my way out.
Memories are the best
medicine. Thinking about Pierce, and all of our times together, brings me
comfort. Comfort in knowing that even if his life was too short, and even
though we lost him “out of time,” that the years we had together are full of
some of my favorite memories.
Raisins in trash is a
bad idea. One of Pierce and I’s favorite things to do together was to make
TV Trash (similar to Chex Mix). We have spent many hours in our Aunt Peggy’s
kitchen shaking, stirring, and (of course) sampling our “secret” family recipe.
Neither of us helped make the Christmas batch of trash, and somehow raisins
ended up in there. I didn’t eat any of it until the week after Piece died, and
I literally laughed out loud thinking of what he would have said about our
recipe being altered.
Pierce shines on me
every day. I know that thought sounds very cliché (and if there is anything
I have learned during this process, it is how much cliché things bother me),
but I truly know that he does. Sometimes he shows up through my radio when the
perfect song plays at exactly the right moment, or other times he show up in my
office as a warm ray of sunshine. Most recently, he showed up during my evening
walk as I looked down at the pavement and noticed many shimmering reflections
as cars passed by with their lights on in the darkness.
It’s OK to just be
quiet. For many visiting a cemetery brings sadness, but for me it brings
comfort. You may have read another one of my blogs talking about the times that
I have spent visiting where my grandmother is buried. I usually talk with her,
but during the times that I have gone to sit with Pierce, I have just been
quiet. I don’t know what to say yet, and that is OK.
Being surrounded by
love brings healing. Through this process, beyond all of the nice words,
just feeling loved has been the greatest blessing of all. There is such comfort
to be found during a time of brokenness in just being with those that you love,
and who love you. Words can’t even to
begin to express how thankful I am for those who have loved me during the past two weeks.
Life doesn’t make
sense sometimes, and faith most certainly never makes sense. I don’t
understand why Pierce died. I screamed my confusions towards the Heavens so
many times. None of this make sense to me, and trusting (by faith) that there
is a greater reason for the heartbreaks that we endure in life is not easy.
Honestly, most days that is my greatest struggle – having faith and trusting
that even though faith does not make things easy, it does make them possible.
Walking through this dark valley has most certainly not been easy, but I know
that each step is possible because …
I am not alone. The
day of Pierce’s viewing I discovered a song that has truly been my go-to during
this process. The song is Just Be Held
by Casting Crowns. There are so many pieces of truth sprinkled through the
lyrics, but what repeats in my head more than anything is – “You’re not alone,
so stop holding on and just be held.” Even
though the moment that the nurse mouthed the words to me that Pierce was gone
was the loneliest moment I have ever had in life, I know that I am not (and
will never be) alone.
Hope is an anchor.
Most of us are familiar with the Scripture that references hope as an anchor
for our souls, and I have truly learned that it is. If you were at Pierce's funeral, you heard the influence that the song Hope In Front of Me has had for me during his entire battle with
cancer, and more, now than ever, hope is what is holding me steady in life.
Hope that this world is temporary, that God is still above it all, and hope
that I will see Pierce again.
His love never fails.
I feel horrible using these words, but if you’ve been where I am right now, I
have a feeling that you’ve felt this way as well. The moment that Pierce died,
I wondered if God loved me. I couldn’t understand (and in some moments, I still
don’t) how God could choose not to heal Pierce here with us. How God could not
give him a miracle so that he could stay here with me. The beauty of the love
of God though is that it never fails us. It never gives up on us (even when we
question Him, and it would be so easy for Him to walk away). But most importantly,
it never runs out even when we are running away.
The enemy came to
steal, kill and destroy, but I have come to give life. This thought was so
gently whispered to me during church today. The enemy came to steal my joy, to
kill my faith and destroy my hope for the future, but Jesus Christ came to give
me life. Not just ordinary life, but abundant life, a life that is overflowing
with joy, faith and hope.
I am not living
without Pierce, I am living for Pierce. My heart feels hollow some days.
Especially days when life feels crummy and I can’t just tell my best bud all
about it. Pierce always brought great perspective to my life. No matter what I
was going through, he had a way of just making it all seem like life would be
OK. So, in honor of Pierce, I wake up every day and tell myself that I am going
to be OK, because my new goal in this life is to live it with a greater passion
– not just for me, but for P.
