Strange Puzzle

I haven’t written in such a long time. Sometimes I go through periods where I process but don’t share. Not that I am undergoing a deep spiritual awakening I don’t want to share, but more because sometimes the words just don’t materialize. Sometimes the things that are revealed to me, are so painful and profound that it takes me a while to process it, and all I can do is breath deep, and sit in it for a while. My words about Nathan and this journey are often not selected. I normally don’t choose what I write. They just seem to jump out at me, and recently the words haven’t formed. I wondered if this was because I have settled into my loss. Not to say that I am healed, over it, wise beyond my years. I think I have just settled into it. It’s either that or go insane. Insanity only looks good in movies.

It is a strange thing to settle into. It becomes part of your daily existence. Every day I wake up to thoughts of Nathan, and every night I fall asleep to thoughts of Him. There is never a moment his absence is not known to my heart. How on earth this loss, this absence, this torture has become endurable I will never understand. I can only attribute it to my relationship with Christ. Somehow he wraps this crap in peace (Note to self Copy write the Phrase “Wraps this Crap”) I don’t understand it at all, but I am grateful. It is a dull ache I carry, but not in vain. I genuinely carry it with pride. It is not as easy for others in my circle though. Some have told me that they feel that something was ripped from them, and they have not been able to live with the loss as easily. On the outside I guess it would appear that I am beyond it. “Wow she is so strong” they say, but not really. I am actually very weak, but lucky for me God is strong in my weakness. Satan still pokes and prods me on a daily basis, and would have me believe that somehow Nathan’s death is my fault. He attacks me during sleep, and I have night terrors about my hospital stay several times a week. Sometimes I even dream He is alive, and then is taken by death later. It is a vicious attack that I undergo daily. I struggle and struggle, and then I cry out the only name I have ever found to save me. I genuinely do not have the words to pray most times, and so I simply repeat the Name of Jesus over and over until the battle has subsided because I am finding that the battle is already won for me, I just have to fight because it is not yet over here on earth. Satan would have me fail, and fall into the darkness of depression. Depression is a real and terrible force that He intends to use to destroy me. In this battle I am confident He will always loose, but I do have to fight. I have to say everyday “You cannot have me, nor control me, You have no power here Sucka” (I like to address Him as Sucka because I feel it is the final kick in the wazoo)

I regard Nathan very openly, and with ease. I talk about him with a smile, and can even tell our story without crying most times. Actually I usually only tear up when others do. And it is not because of pain, but rather because I am so moved that He meant so very much too so many people. I can only attribute my progress again to my relationship with Christ. It is the only way I can explain how James and I have been able to move forward, and be at peace. We feel overwhelming ache, the kind that takes you to your knees. But somehow we are able to process it and use it to help others. Grief is such a strange beast, and when I hear that others are still in the beginning stages of their grief journey I ache for them. I want them to be where I am. I want them to feel the peace I feel.

It is so hard to see other people hurt. We all have to process this in our time, and in our own way. Grieving is one of the few things in life that is truly individualized. There is no specific set of steps to get better. The only tool I think we all have to start with is honesty. Being honest about your pain, your joy, your restlessness, your peace, is the key to healing in any traumatic event. In all post traumatic lives there is a moment when talking about it is just too painful, and then there is a moment when talking about it is something you desperately want to do. The road from one to another has no time frame. It can happen at different times for each person, and strangely enough you can bounce back and forth between the two. Like I said Grief is a strange beast, but it is not a beast you cannot stare down. It is BIG and SCARY, but it is possible to look it directly in the eyes and say “You will not destroy me”. Don’t misunderstand me; I know it is harder than it sounds. The only reason I am successful is because I have Faith, Family, and Friends that support me, and keep me strong. Those things along with therapy and the right medication have helped me not just cope but thrive. I think the key is being honest with the need for help, and then reaching for it. We cannot do this on our own. God provides what we need; we simply have to be willing to do the work.

Without a strong support system I would be lost. Without God’s grace I would be destroyed. Without having an open honest relationship with my Husband I would be in turmoil. My journey is not over, I will travel this road my entire life. It is not a road I would wish on anyone. But that doesn’t mean I have to travel it alone, and in vain. Nathan’s life counts. He was here, and He lives on in each person we touch with God’s peace. This crazy mess does not make sense, but it can be useful. We can use it to reach the hurting. We can show people that God is real, and cares. We can show people that infant and child loss is not a punishment. There can be life after loss. You can live and not just exist. You can thrive in the face of utter disappointment. The death of a child is not a failure, and subsequently neither are you. There is nothing we could have done to prevent Nathan’s passing. He lived the days he was meant to live here on Earth, and I am at peace with that. I may not be at peace with every part of it, but I am at peace with at least that. Sometimes if you can be at peace with just one piece of the puzzle, the rest comes together on its own.