As I walked through the doorway, I was greeted by an emptiness the size of Africa — I could even go with Antarctica, the size of the Earth, the length of outer space, but I’m sure you can see the picture I’m trying to paint here. It was overwhelming, almost eerie. Her bed was still unmade. Pieces of her laundry still lay in the dryer. The pajamas she had worn to bed were folded on top of a pile of clothes in her closet, still warm from her cozy night sleep. She was just there.
My Dad had gone to take my brother back to his apartment, while I took the liberty of unrolling quite a bit of the Charmin Ultra off the roll and crawling into her bed. I wanted to be as close to her as possible. I’m just realizing how classic that is. Don’t we all innately turn to our mom for her love and comfort when we’re not feeling good or when our heart is broken? Her presence alone is almost medicinal. I love my Dad, but I have to say, I was always a little bit more of a Momma’s girl. When I was little, whether I was sick or not, I would kick my Dad out of his bed, so I could sleep with her. (The Lord made me an assertive one, let me tell you.) There was never one of those night’s where she didn’t scratch my back until I fell asleep, because she knew that was “her Chicky’s” most favorite thing. I remember, one time in college, I called her when I was feeling so hopeless and heartbroken over my then boyfriend. The first thing she said to me was ‘come home and be with me’. I knew, that on this morning, it wasn’t possible for her Earthly presence to be with me, but her scent was … and I decided I would take it. If it was all that I could have, I wanted it. I knew it would fade, so I relished in this weird, but silent victory.
- “What am I supposed to be doing right now?”
- “How can this be real?”
- “What could it have been?”
- “When will I know and understand?”
- “No, but really, what am I supposed to be doing right now?”
- “Do I call people? … That seems weird. Sure, let me call someone and get attention that is awkward for the people on BOTH ends of the phone.”
is usually my next thought when words just pop into my head like that
and this time was no exception.
I started crying, because I knew it was exactly what I should be doing … seeking Him. I even had my Bible next to me, ready to find comfort in His truth and His words, but at that moment, I couldn’t think clearly enough to find where I needed to be in it. My prayer was short: “God, show me Your goodness and that You love me as I walk through this.” In hindsight, the delivery might have been more of a demand than a polite request, but He has made it clear in His multiple responses that He can handle this little lady and loves me more than anything or anyone I’ve ever known, and every will know, and is my ultimate source of peace and comfort. The way that He has moved and worked to satisfy that prayer has brought me to tears multiple times since her death, and I can’t be quiet about it.
Today marks fifty-three days since those words to Him were spoken, since she’s been gone, and since I’ve been wrapped up in her scent. Today is also her birthday, the first of many special days my family and I will experience without her. It has most certainly not been fun, especially during the process of writing this post, but it seems that grieving and writing go hand-in-hand … for me, at least. Grieving is a process that is unique to each individual that experiences it. I find that writing is one of the ONLY ways I get my emotions out in the open. It’s like free therapy. I hope you will join me on the days where I just need to share how He worked His good out of this situation, even before she died, so that I may heal and you may know Him better.
With love and sequins,
“These things I have spoken to you, that in Me, you may have peace. In the world, you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, for I have overcome the world.”
“Yet what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory He will reveal to us later.”
“I have made you. I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.”
“When you go through deep waters, I will be with you.”