I read something the other day which I completely agree with.
Grief is exhausting.
I have found that to be so very true on so many levels. Although there are all kinds of reasons we experience grief, I believe the loss of our “forever twenty-four” year old son has been, without a doubt, one of the most difficult we’ve ever experienced.
Today we celebrate his home going, just four short (or long, depending what day it is) years ago. Yes, that’s the outlook we try to take. Yet, to be honest, it doesn’t feel so much like a celebrating moment. On one hand, you celebrate the fact that his race is over and that he is at peace. On the other hand, we desperately grieve what we have lost. A son, a husband, a dad, a brother, a grandson and great grandson, an uncle, a nephew, a friend, etc.
We have many wonderful memories to savor today too, as we continue to try to come to grips with the many, many more which were never made. Those are hard. Every “first” that passes us by reminds us of that; and the firsts seem to never stop coming around. We are thankful, beyond words, for the moments we were blessed to have Steffan on loan from God. And, we feel grief beyond words for the moments we miss with him now.
Grief is a two-sided character - sort of like a coin. We cannot hold to one side without acknowledging the other is there. As much as we’d like to experience only the “good” side, we cannot ignore the side which is intensely painful. They come together in a pair - joy and sadness. We don’t purposefully dwell on what we’ve lost, but cannot deny it is so. It makes itself known to us daily.
A dear friend far ahead in her journey of child loss described it like this: When you’re delivering a baby, you might pray to die because of the pain of labor and delivery. That was before epidurals. She went on to say this, “...but that pain eventually stops. The pain of child loss never does.” I have to say I agree. I don’t think there’s anything quite comparable, not that I’ve found anyhow. We’ll carry this with us until our final breath.
Some things can be let go of, but some things will always be a part of us.
So, today we are thankful for what we have, and for what we had. We hold tightly to those memories we made and cherish them deeply while also feeling the raw, undeniable pain which loss has added. We know that God was not surprised by the sudden, tragic loss we experienced and that He has been so faithful to us through it all. He hasn’t taken away the pain though, it serves its purpose. However, He has made it bearable. He prepares and conditions us daily to rely on Him, to trust Him to prop us up or carry us through the harder moments of this journey. He has never failed us one single time. Even the days and moments which seem absolutely unbearable, those when we feel we’re suffocating, flat on our faces in emotional mud, He always picks us up and holds our hands and hearts until it eases a bit. He does gentle and faithful so well.
Yes, we may be sad, we may cry, or shut down in these moments, and there are times when we’re angry, but never is there a time when we don’t have One who is acquainted with our grief walking by our side. I’m glad were not too much for Him! We grieve but do not grieve like those who have no hope.
One day, on that great getting up morning, we will be gathered together once again with new bodies, in a new home, where all tears will be dried and every heartache forever gone. What a joyous day that will be! But, until that day, on days like today we will choose to pause and remember - and know it’s okay to experience both sides of the coin we’ve been given. Yes, however we spend this day each year, through our smiles and the tears, we can assuredly say it is well as we set our eyes on that glorious morning to come.
In Loving Memory
Steffan “Runkle” Hardesty November 20, 1991 - September 27, 2017