Month: December 2018
I don’t know you and I didn’t know your parents. But you have been heavy on my heart since Christmas Day. We were leaving my brother’s house after celebrating Christmas and we were passed by police cars and fire trucks and ambulances. We turned on the police scanner and heard the words, “plane crash.”
The next morning my friend texted me to tell me that it was a mom and dad who died in the crash. She wanted me to know before I heard it on the news. She knows me well because it was a trigger and I wept at my desk but I was thankful to hear it from a friend. I texted her back, “UG! I feel like I’ll never heal.”
Very few can understand your grief. Losing both parents at the same time, the grandparents of your children, so suddenly. Without warning. Without being able to say goodbye.
Unfortunately, I can understand. I lost my parents to carbon monoxide poisoning 6 ½ years ago. One day we were joyously living life and the next, we were saying goodbye to the two who held our family together. If I can be completely honest, there are still days where it’s a struggle to find the joy.
This morning I woke up and I prayed for you. I remember the morning after we found our parents, dead on their boat for three days. I remember waking up and the first thing I thought was, “It wasn’t a dream.” How could it not be a dream? I never could have imagined something so painful. And so I prayed for you this morning because I’m sure you were experiencing the same thing. The same realization that you were walking through something so difficult that it was hard to breathe.
I remember the questions.
Why did God take them together? And then in the next breath we were thanking God for taking them together. They had been married for 42 years and were inseparable. They loved living life together and after many years of struggle and heartache, in the last half of their marriage, it had grown into something so beautiful.
Why couldn’t we have said goodbye? Why couldn’t we have seen them, even after their death, to tell them one more time how much we loved them? Those questions still haunt me and I know they will probably never be answered this side of heaven. Even though today you probably can’t imagine coming to peace with those questions, there will come a day when you will realize that some questions aren’t meant to be answered. And I pray that despite the questions, you will find peace.
Sometimes I feel so silly over the grief I feel from the loss of my parents. It’s been almost seven years and I’m an adult, but I still often feel like an orphaned child. I will pray that you will allow yourself to grieve. Allow yourself the time. Seven years from now, if you still feel like an orphaned child, it’s ok. And I’ll keep telling myself that too.
I will pray for you that you will find comfort in each other, as me and my siblings have found. I pray you will find comfort in extended family and friends. There have been so many people in my life who have stepped in as surrogate parents and grandparents over the years. Yes, there have been times and there continues to be, when their absence was so real it was like a knife to my heart. During those times, there is sometimes peace, always tears and sometimes doubt. But I know I have to keep looking for the joy through it all.
I will pray for you that over time you will begin to find joy again. You will see your parents in your children and it hurt but it will also make you smile. You will remember something they said or did and it will make you laugh. You will remember advice they gave and you will be encouraged.
Whatever tomorrow brings Meyer family, I just want you to know that you are loved and prayed for. I will pray for you daily and I look forward to the day when both our families are whole again.
Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and body with grief. Psalm 31:9
He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. Revelation 21:4