Grief

Overwhelming. That's one word I would use to describe the events of this past weekend. And the emotions that have gone with it. Shocking. I honestly cannot believe it. When I think back, it feels like a horrible nightmare that could not have possibly happened.
For me, writing is processing. Without writing, the processing is never quite complete. So, for now, I write. I may not even publish this. It feels too raw. It feels too soon. It feels too painful. It feels too honest. But the words are burning a hole in my soul and begging to run free, begging to teach me and show me how to cope. And so, I let them come. I give way to the process and pray that it will bring healing to my broken and bleeding soul.
What have I learned and seen over the past three days. Have I really learned anything? Or just felt things? So many emotions and feelings over-running my heart and mind.
Has it really only been three days? Three days ago that he was with us, having dinner and laughing at the girls' and their funny songs? Has it really only been three days since I heard that horrible screaming? Three days since I felt the panic welling up inside my heart and mind. Three days since I felt powerless to help, powerless to save. So much fear. So much confusion. So much waiting.
Waiting for the dreaded radio to hear that a swimmer was indeed missing ... waiting for the mention of a name. Was it my precious husband? Would it be his name they mentioned, his body for which we were searching? Relief as I heard a different name, not my beloved's name. Guilt as I knew that it meant that someone else would be receiving heart wrenching news about their beloved. How could I feel relief when they would feel so broken? Guilt. Fear. Wondering. How will this go? Will we find him? Will he still be alive? Waiting. Oh the endless waiting. Moments upon moments upon moments ... has it really only been an hour? An hour of waiting, of listening, of searching, of praying and begging for a miracle, for life. Wanting and praying for the Lord's will yet honestly only wanting and longing for one outcome ... life.
How can you long for something so much and yet dread it at the same time? The radio call. They found him. Praise. But then, the wondering. In what state did they find him? And then. The world crashing down. How could it be? Why would He allow this? Not like this. Not in this place. Not in something meant for joy and tension relief. Not in this. Lord. Why?
The fear. The logistics. The phone calls. The waiting. The guilt. Oh, Lord. The guilt. The weight of the responsibility feels heavy. It lies heavy in my heart and on my shoulders. It is suffocating and drowning. The fear. The overwhelming fear. Will they hate me? Will my team mates hate us? Will they be angry? Will they blame us? Will they ask us to leave? Will our loved ones cast blame? Will family cast blame? Oh the weight of it all. The pain of a life lost amidst so much pain and loss. The pain of a son watching his father die. The pain of the search. Imagining what he must feel ... the hurt and the loss and the grief, oh the grief. It is too much, Lord. The weight is more than I can bear. How will I stand up under it? I am drowning. I am lost. I feel invisible. And unseen. And unable to carry it, Lord.
And you come. You always come. You see me. You carry me. You allow me to survive. You provide a friend who comes alongside to teach me about grief. She shows me what it looks like to love and give and support in the midst of grief. I feel so lost. This feeling, this emotion, this overwhelming suffocation is so new to me. And in it, Lord, you are teaching me. You are using her example to show me how to love those who are grieving. She knows what to do, how to continually ask and support. She gives what I don't know that I need. And my community. My community that can be so confusing. You have shown me life. And allowed me to feel and know support. You have given me support in ways I never imagined I would feel it. And allowed me to feel seen in places I so often feel unseen and unwanted. Praise.
You know me. You love me. You see me. Even when I cannot possibly bear the pain of it. Or stand up under it. And cannot understand it. And cannot logistically understand how you would allow this when you are love ... it doesn't fit with what I know to be true of you, Lord. And, yet, I choose to believe what I know to be true. When I don't feel it, I know it to be true. I know you to be true. I know you to be love and life. Lord, I find myself asking, once again, help me in my unbelief. Please. Meet me in this pain that seems too great to bear. Allow me to walk in a way, in the midst of my grief, that brings honor to you, that shows your glory and shouts your name. Jesus. Come quickly to me. Come quickly to us. Meet us in our grief. Meet the son and the wife and the brother and the friend in their grief. Give them the ability to stand up under it. Oh. Jesus. We need you.

- Katie