When my sister went to her Heavenly home 14 months ago, I knew I was going to spend the rest of my life walking down the road called "remembering"....., remembering with pain, and remembering with hope. This road has had many expected, and unexpected twists and turns - sometimes the road has glimmers of light shining through the darkness to help navigate my way through it, and other times, I stumble and fall flat in the darkness. Some things make sense, others make no sense whatsoever. Some days hopeful, other days hopeless. And so it is with grief - there is no roadmap, no clear markings of how the journey is going to go and where exactly you might end up along the way. I have heard the journey of grief described as a "wilderness" - and I think that is accurate. Picture a wilderness in your mind....., you know eventually you will get out, you know the general direction you are heading, but you have no idea what you are going to encounter along the way as you journey to your destination. I do not look to be at a certain point at a certain time in my grief. But I very methodically, purposefully, and with great courage, walk through this wilderness. I am thankful that I do not journey alone....., "yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me".
While some things have been expected, others have come rather unexpectedly. I was not prepared to have a 4 year old little boy grieving as hard, if not harder than he was 14 months ago. I was not prepared for the questions, the tears, the sadness, the compassion, the faith, the remembering, nor the constant gaze upward that I see from him. He has shown more compassion to me than most people. He seems to just "get it". He has brought me more comfort over these past few months than I ever dreamed. He is not afraid to talk about his Aunt, to ask questions, to cry, to long for her, to remind us that even though he misses her so much, he knows she is safe and healthy and happy. He is the first one to point out crosses in the sky - he has his eyes turned upward every day, searching the skies for crosses. I look at him through the rear view mirror in the car each day and see those bright, blue eyes staring out of the window, gazing upward - looking - searching. He finds things each day out in nature that remind him of his Aunt and he quickly points them out - a butterfly, a yellow flower, a cross made out of sticks or anything else he can find to make a cross. She is on his mind constantly, every day, and every night. He laughs, he cries, he is happy, he is sad. He, like the rest of us, doesn't stay in one place emotionally, but rather bounces back and forth like a ping pong ball. So it is with grief.......
Just a few days ago, I noticed he was crying in his bed during his nap. When I went to check on him, he was sobbing in his bed. When I asked him what was wrong, he simply pointed his finger up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his wall. They don't glow at night anymore, but they are still stuck on his wall. I asked him why he was crying and he said that the stars were making him think about Aunt and how much he misses her. We talked about it for alittle while and he settled down. Well, the next day the same thing happened, same time, same place, same way. Sitting on his bed, I asked him why the stars and he said that the sky makes him think about Aunt (remember, the sky crosses he always notices). He said he wanted to leave the stars on his wall because he didn't want to forget her. Day 3, same thing happened again - truthfully, I didn't really know what to do at this point, so I sat on his bed and didn't say a word. I hoped he would just start talking if he wanted to talk. Through the sobs, this is what I heard, "I am just so sad about Aunt. I just can't deal with it. I am only a child. I am just 4 1/2 years old and I just can't understand where she is and why she isn't here anymore". I sat there with my jaw dropped and heart laid bear, unable to believe that he was able to verbalize that, and so thankful at the same time that he did verbalize it. It gave me great insight into the pain and anguish still in his heart. This is an unexpected part of grief for me - I did not realize the extent to which our son was going to struggle with this loss. He was one month shy of turning 3 when she was diagnosed, and he was a mere 3 1/2 when she went to Heaven. The depth in his heart knows no end - he feels things so deeply, so passionately. He loves with his entire being. He then continued by saying, "you are a grown woman and I am a child, and I just think about things differently than you do".
Unexpected twist in the wilderness - my grief stricken child. God, grant me the words I need to bring comfort to my son.
Tonight as I was putting him to bed, he was staring so intently at me, the glow of his little "Mater" nightlight in his room. I asked him what he was thinking about and he said, "you look like Aunt right now". I said, "how so", and he responded, "your blue eyes and spiraly, twizzly hair"! I told him that made me very happy, he smiled and said, "I love you".
