The Healing Factor
As you guys know, I have been a passenger on the struggle bus lately. It has been really difficult for me to look out the window and see anything beyond my own reflection. The glass is grimy. The tires are almost flat. The exhaust fumes are suffocating. We (me and my vessel) are barely creeping along. And yet, I’ll be damned if I step off at the next stop into the sunlight and clean air. I’ll just keep riding this death trap until it quits. Or until I do.
I won’t quit. I won’t even really consider it. Although, I will do what so many of us do. I’ll make it harder on myself than necessary. I’ll run up and down the aisle trying to escape the reality. I’ll stare at the laptop in front of me or numbly talk to the person beside me. I’m not alone on this ride. We’re all hiding from the truth because it’s easier than looking into the eyes of grief. Sometimes it’s just too difficult to dive in... to remember their laughs or listen to the replay of their voices inside my head. Some days the drone of this crappy engine is all I can bear to hear.
Are you a fellow passenger, too? Maybe even sitting beside me? I hope not. I hope so.
Did I just say that aloud?
Yes.
No.
Does it matter?
How often do we secretly wish we weren’t alone in our despair? When the boys died I wanted to find someone who had walked this road before me. Someone who understood the depths of my pain. But, what does it say about me; that I could wish such a level of devastation on someone just so that I could feel better? So that I wouldn’t feel so alone.
I am learning that there is only one thing that can infiltrate this emptiness. There’s only one thing that can soothe these wounds. It’s the one thing that is bigger than grief. It is LOVE. As humans, finding our purpose is something we all search for while walking on this earth. No one will ever convince me that all along I was meant to outlive my children; that I was created to survive the rest of my life in darkness. And yet, I am here. I talk about darkness a lot. I also talk about the light that pierces through that thick veil. That light is love and I have so many people shining on me.
I've come to realize that the healing factor isn’t finding the one who has been there.
It's being the one who has been there.
So, if you just hopped on or are curled up in the back of this train wreck of ours raise your hand if you'd like for me to sit with you awhile. In the meantime, I'll be right here... cleaning the windows. It's time to let the sunlight in.
Much Love,
The Graceseeker
Comments:
Michele Bevans
2/20/2020 06:59:43 pm
Right there with you!
Chasity Collins
2/20/2020 08:31:42 pm
Right there with you too! I know that we don’t know each other but we have a mutual friend, Rhonda Lucas. My family lost our Hunter in July 2017. I understand the light and the darkness. Prayers for you!
The Graceseeker
2/21/2020 08:33:20 am
Rhonda is a beautiful soul. I’m always astounded that the amount of us walking this road is so vast in our own little community. Sending you so much love.
The Graceseeker
2/21/2020 08:29:07 am
I’m so sorry momma. So much love to you.
10/3/2021 05:49:33 pm
Appreciate you blogging this
The Graceseeker
10/4/2021 12:01:42 am
Thank you for reading!