Heart - Ache

Another Christmas without him. This makes three. His booming voice. His daddy hugs. His grampa belly. His twinkle in his eye. His snickering as he bit his tongue out of the side of his mouth. His heavy steps. His strong hands. What wonderful memories he left behind.

I once envision my mother in a seat, more like a bench, with her head down and arms crossed, much as a lost young child looked. I visioned our Jesus outstretching his hand to her. She rose her young face toward him, shook her head from side to side and slowly her head dropped down.

When I shared this with my mother she related it to my father's current illness, lung cancer. A road she did not want to walk. I related it to something different. God was not giving her a choice to go the path of lung cancer with my father. God already allowed the cancer. As days turned into weeks and weeks into months God allowed that cancer to spread through my father's body. He did not ask my mother to walk down that road. Our Jesus, himself, put her on that road.

I could not imagine a greater pain than the loss of my father. The empty pit in my gut would swell to foresee holidays, birthdays, my daughters' graduations and my daughters' weddings. Tears would stream, the lump in my throat would grow and a loss of words overcame me to just imagine tomorrow without him. When I turned to my husband for comfort and escape an intense pain overpowered me. There was no one to comfort my mother. No one to cuddle with. No shoulder to cry on. No one to depend on. Her husband was her partner in all she did. Waiting for him was the drive behind cleaning the house, doing laundry and cooking dinner. He was her travel buddy, dinner companion and movie counterpart. Dad was her ally.

We all have answers for how we believe another should think. Should act. Should respond. Should react. We lack the compassion to allow someone their own way and their own time. Instead of compassion, we dictate how and when. Instead of love we judge. Grief is no exception.

It is not easy getting off that bench walking into a world with no ally. Living alone, planning alone, traveling alone. One day that young face will look up and stretch out her hand to grasp our Jesus and she will choose to walk through life whole again as a single, alone, as one. Know this, the amazing memories left behind do not heal the horrific heart-ache. So ditch your answers, your beliefs and your judgments, but draw near with compassion and love.