I must write an honest reflection, much as it pains me. I must reveal the secret concerns of my broken heart.
Are you healthy? This is the question posed to me by a friend in ministry. Healthy? I thought, That seems relative considering the circumstances... Am I healthy? I don't quite know.
The more time that passes, the more milestones I cross over in my journey of grief, life seem to tell me that I am moving on. Time moves forward and so must I. Many times, in an effort to assuage the concern and fear of others, or their discomfort and sense of awkwardness, I try and project a sense of strength and health. Sometimes, I feel it. But usually those moments are fleeting. Sometimes I feel blessed and thankful. But usually, I feel emptiness. Usually, I feel a dark and devastating aloneness. I wonder, Is this it? Is all hope lost? Will I truly be laid to rest here in this place of winter grief? The end of my life being the same as that of my husband's? Did I truly die with him, with no more life left to live? And what of God? What of His plan? What of faith?
Many people say, You are so strong. You are courageous. This year will bring many new blessings and renewed joy. My spirit says, Yes, this is true. But my heart says, I am eternally broken. Never to be whole again.
A new beginning that piggy-backs the long and hard month of December, seems brutally unfair. It is quite possible that nothing has ever brought me lower than this last particular month. My birthday, a new decade without Lynn, our would-be 10th anniversary, Christmas and all its to-do's, and now New Year's… It may seem that Lynn died so long ago, why would it matter? But it is still as raw and fresh as the day it happened, leaving my heart slashed and torn to threads. Especially in times of special memories, I am thrust backwards into the past, aware of Lynn's absence in every moment and every facet of my life, swallowed up and engulfed by loneliness and emptiness, lost in grief and sorrow upon sorrow… Even Alea, when we arrived home after the hustle and bustle of holidays, cried out for Daddy's arms like she hasn't in many long months. We could all feel the void.
This time is supposed to be one of joy and celebration, hope and promises. But I find that I am brought low. I am reminded that my journey is not by might, nor by power, but by His Holy Spirit. It is a good thing that nothing is impossible with God, because some things are impossible for me. Bringing newness of life is one of them...