The morning after Donnie’s death I laid in my bed entangled in the traumatic events of the day before. I couldn’t move or even draw up a desire to crawl out of bed.
My body was numb and my heart was throbbing in pain as my eyes drowned in tears. My life was forever changed that day six years ago.
But God was waiting to pick me up in his hands, nurture me, cradle me and protect me from myself. I knew it was my time for the emptiness, the void, the quiet, the pain, the grief that submerges us until we almost collapse.
It is the most important time, this space of grief. This space that we fear the most and that we run from is where God resides.
We want to avoiding these feelings, distracting ourselves and battling our way through our grief. When we don’t stay conscious and allow ourselves to feel the pain, the frustration and the torture we don’t heal.
How do I know? I’ve used some of these distractions many times to numb the grief, until I had no choice but to feel it.
I have learned from experience that when I fight it, I don’t learn and I don’t grow as I should. In God’s palm, I am safe. I am safe to question everything, reevaluate my life and my choices.
I allowed myself to cry, to yell, to sleep, and to reach out to those I trusted to listen and nurture me as I grieved.
This week has reinforced my faith in the power of pain and sorrow—how necessary it is to feel these emotions in order to experience this life completely.
Within this grief, I am reminded I have more questions than I do answers, yet I have reaffirmed what I do know for certain—what I want to be and what I don’t want to be, what I can live without and what I can’t, and most of all, how unbreakable all of our spirits are because no matter how hard we crash, God is there to cushion our fall.