I don't want to dwell on sadness, but I do want to be real, and real in a way that helps and encourages people, that says, "Hey, you're normal, and it's not your responsibility to have it all together." Jesus has it all together. And if He has us, then everything is okay. And really, it's something I've always admired and appreciated about Ty and Terri -- they were so real. I was never under any illusions, thinking them to be perfect, because they (appropriately) shared their struggles. It made us all feel safe around them. Feel like we were normal. And feel like it was okay and not a big deal to struggle -- it's just something that happens in life. No worries. God's still God, and He's still good. We just need to go to Him, and He takes care of everything.
I feel like I'm just getting into the grieving and mourning process (I honestly don't even like the sound of that). Ken, Ty, Terri. The past few months have been too busy, I wasn't sure if I could "go there", and I didn't know that grief could make you so physically tired. So I slept in my free moments. (See previous post.)
The reality of death is hard to grasp. Everything about it just feels not right. I don't know how I've completely missed it all before -- because I was far away, or everything else in life just kept moving and I kept moving with it? I don't know. Maybe I'd just so protected (aka: hardened) my heart in other areas that the deaths of grandparents wasn't able to penetrate the walls of self-protection. But those defenses came down a couple years ago, and while I want to be wise, I want the Lord to be the One who protects my heart.
Several years ago another close friend of mine died -- Ruben. I was only 27 and was so completely clueless as to how to deal with it. It was sudden. He'd been sick, yeah. But he was just going in for some tests. That day, the last day I saw him conscious, he gave me a ride to work because I didn't have a car at the time. He went in for the tests, for some reason things went south. We prayed and prayed and prayed, but he died about a week later.
And what I felt was something I hadn't experienced before. I wanted to fall on the floor and weep. I'd only known him for 16 months, from the time I'd moved to Texas. How could I feel such intensity when I'd barely known him for over a year? But he and his family had invited me over for lunch after church. Regularly. I didn't always go. In fact, it seems like I often didn't go -- I have no idea why! But deep down I knew I was welcome. Really, the invitation from him to come over for Sunday lunch was more similar to a declaration of expectation of my presence. For various reasons, my transition to Texas was challenging. But every Sunday at church he gave me a hug. If I needed help with anything (which I didn't often communicate because I was used to doing things on my own), he would be there to help. He was like my big, Mexican papa. I didn't realize that until that last day when he gave me a ride to work...
There was a church counselor I tried to talk to about how I was feeling. How could I be experiencing so much grief? I mean, it wasn't actually my dad who died, and I hadn't even known him that long! It was his wife and kids who actually had the worst of it. And I felt guilty for feeling the way that I did. I told the counselor... who simply encouraged me to support his wife. That was something I wanted to be able to do, but I simply didn't know how to when I didn't know what to do about my grief, and felt guilty for it.
So I never let myself cry. I literally bit my lip and held my breath through the funeral to keep myself from crying. I should have cried -- I needed to. And 3 years later, I finally did.
When I found out about Ty and Terri, that time I let myself do exactly what I felt like doing: fall on the floor and weep. In the middle of Snoekie's restaurant in Haut Bay (Cape Town). I just didn't care what other people thought. At least that much I'd learned. And that grief is a love song. And I love Ty and Terri. It still baffles me how much I miss people that I hardly ever saw anyway. But I don't even get to see Facebook posts from them any more, or see them during visits home. There are only pictures posted during some other time, like echos of what was, but can't be touched right now. It's just all wrong.
Ty's birthday is January 12th. Which is in about 30 minutes (Brazilian time) from the time of my typing this. Spent some time praying for his family today. I know he's going to have a great birthday. I just wish all of us here could celebrate with him. And tease him. He'd expect a few well-placed jokes about his balding, at the very least. (Which at this point, has probably been corrected...! How he'd enjoy turning that one around on us!)
No comments:
Post a Comment