I want to write something about each of the beatitudes of Jesus. (there are eight of them) The first was “blessed are the poor”. This week is “blessed are those who mourn” – but I could not decide where to begin; then I remembered I had already written about it. What follows is a letter I sent to my kids six years ago. It had been a year since Megan, their sister, had died.
It always feels odd sharing things like this. it is like disrobing in public when you know how weak and unattractive you are. But if it is any encouragement to even one soul who is mourning today, then I will gladly bear the shame. It is long for a FB post, 1500 words – sorry, but for the sake of honesty I chose to leave it unedited.
Mourning is inevitable in this life. But so is comfort.
Blessed are those who mourn…
November 2017
For some time now I have felt compelled to try to put into words how mom and I are doing, what we are feeling and what we are thinking (when we are thinking at all). I know we do not “owe” you an explanation or anything like that, this is just me being transparent with my kids. This is me looking at the footprints that pain has left on the hearts of your parents, footprints that will never go away because they are not meant to. But with them I see the fingerprints of a loving and gracious Father whose hands were everywhere in our lives and continue to be so.
I know that you all mourn the loss of your sister in your own way and that none of us are pain free. Life is not pain free, ever. But I also know that none of you would say that you ever had a “relationship” with Megan, at least not the kind that you all have with each other; I love that you love each other and even like each other. Megan was the background noise of your lives; she was part of the scenery of your childhood. You love her, you miss her, but you also know that she is much better off in the bosom of Christ than she ever was here.
Obviously for mom it is different. What must it be like to have a baby for 25 years? A beautiful baby girl that you touched and held every morning and every night, a child you sang to and prayed over every day. A baby whose every improvement, no matter how small, would thrill you and whose every setback would shake your heart. A 25-year roller-coaster ride would be exhausting. And then to watch this baby slowly die in front of your eyes while you stand by helplessly? Mom is crippled. Those last weeks it felt like we were watching a giant wave coming at us, a terrifying wall of water that we could almost touch, so close that you cannot breathe, exhausting. Mom fought a 25-year battle with no victories, only loss. Your mother is the best person I have ever met.
I read an article on PTSD and this is what it said in part:
“A person with PTSD may also experience sleep problems, depression, feeling detached or numb, or being easily startled. They may lose interest in things they used to enjoy and have trouble feeling affectionate. They may feel irritable, more aggressive than before, or even violent. Seeing things that remind them of the incident may be very distressing, which could lead them to avoid certain places or situations that bring back those memories. Anniversaries of the event are often very difficult.”
That is a good summary of what we are dealing with. The “event” is not just your sister’s death, but her life as well. Mom is numb and frayed. She is feeling lost because there is a giant whole in her life where Megan is supposed to be. She does not know what to do now but she keeps going, even though for her it’s just going through the motions. I wish that I could eat her pain, I would destroy planets for her. But I see boundless joy and peace in her future, not because I wish it, but because God is gracious, and kind and He loves your mother more than I can imagine.
My baggage is different than mom’s. for me its remorse, a searing regret that I have always carried with me, and I will take to my grave I suppose. Remember, we lost Megan twice. We took one little girl to the hospital, and we left with another girl. We had no time to process that first grief because we were immediately hip deep in other surgeries and medical needs. I know that all the pain that your sister endured was not technically my “fault,” but it was my responsibility. I am her father and I let her get broken. God gave me a treasure and I fumbled it, like a man who lets a priceless vase slip through his fingers. I didn’t mean to drop it but there it was shattered on the floor. I have always felt like the parent who was distracted by something at the mall only to turn and find their child missing and then realize with a sinking horror that they will never see that child again. Children do not get lost, people lose them.
So many nights when I was the last one to go to bed I would always go over and cover Megan, hold her, kiss her, and say, “I’m so sorry honey.” The last week in the hospital when I would hold your mother as we cried, I never said anything like “it’s going to be ok,” I knew it wasn’t, I just told her over and over “I’m so sorry.” It was the last thing that I said to your sister less than an hour before she died. I kissed her and apologized one last time.
What would a man with that kind of regret even be like? I do not have to wonder. He would be angry with himself every day of his life; sometimes that anger would spill out at the people he loves and hopefully they would learn to forgive him.
Sometimes he would drink too much. Ha-ha.
He would become obsessed with the grace of God and would spend his days pursuing the only One who can redeem remorse and remake shattered images; the One who came to bind up the broken-hearted.
I will never be at peace with myself and that’s ok, it’s the cost of being me; but I have peace with God which is far more important. I trust Him to heal us and visit us; I have seen his hand in our lives all along. We have an unusually strong family it seems. That is not something mom and I planned or could have planned. It is the kindness of God; he knew that we would need you. Mom and I are crippled right now but without all of you we would be paralyzed; we would not endure. God knew this (He knows all things) and in His kindness and His sovereignty He gave us all of you. If God showed us our future would any of us, choose it? Probably not. That’s why we must trust Him with past, present, and future; He is the Alpha and the Omega; the Beginning and the End; the One who was, and is, and is to come. I will hold Megan again and there will be no apologies.
For now, mom and I will continue to be sad for a long time. We will continue to lie to people when they ask how we are, because trying to explain all of this would be ridiculous. We will walk the rest of our lives with a limp, like Jacob, because our Heavenly Father in His perfect wisdom has allowed us to be wounded; but this does not make Him unkind, because He uses wounds for His glory and our benefit, consider Jesus. Eventually the sadness will lessen but it will always be there, like background radiation. We will also have true joy; I sense the presence of God in our future in a profound way, and joy is one of His chief fruits. He is able and willing to restore the years that the locusts have eaten. Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted; He is the God of all comfort.
We were not made to mourn, that’s why it feels so alien and heavy. We were made for joy unspeakable. Do not waste your lives looking for that joy anywhere else but the presence of God. I see His face shining on this family.
Always assume that the people around you are hurting in some way; pain is everywhere. Everyone that you meet is in desperate need of Jesus. You need Jesus, not just in Eternity, but every day in this fallen world. In a world of death, He is the Life. In a world of darkness, He is the Light. In a world of evil, He is the Good. In a world of pain, He is the Balm. In a world of lies He is the Truth. In a world of burdens, He is the Rest. In a world of sin, He is the forgiveness. In a world of sadness, He is the Joy.
Always look out for each other, take care of each other. Always forgive each other, do not hold grudges, it’s not worth it. We are not promised another day on this earth, every single breath that you take is a gift from a father that loves you and wants you. Be careful with each other, it scares me how much my sons sound like me sometimes, we need to be gentler with people. Don’t be like me, be gentle.
I am so proud of all of you, and I bless God for His kindness over the years to this family, it seems like it just keeps increasing. Mom and I pray for you all the time. Always bless your mother.
Sorry for rambling.
I love you guys.
Dad.
“Those who honor Me I will honor.”