I am writing from a place of sadness after hearing about dear friends who today lost their beautiful 16 year old son. Tears, disbelief, and even some anger are in my heart. What words are there to explain such deep, and visceral grief?
Grief is unlike anything else in our human experience. It seeps into every part of our being, appearing around every turn, and far overstays a welcome that was never extended in the first place. It’s a weight, a physical heaviness, that leaves us wanting nothing more than to hide away. Laughter does not bring comfort, kind words, an embrace, even a really great meal don’t even scratch the surface. At the end of the day we cannot escape reality. We have experienced loss.
I am strangely unable to shake this grief right now. Charles was not my son and yet my heart is heavy. So heavy. Have I hugged my girls tighter tonight? Yes. Have I thought often of this young man that will never grow up or become the amazing man that I know he would have? Yes. Do I cry at the thought of what this moment must feel like for his family, his mother? Yes.
So, here I am. Heavy. Burdened. Sad. We know that God shows up in just these places. How much I wish they didn’t have to happen, that we could see Him in the highs alone. How grateful I am that he is faithful to come and that He already has. May He lift this weight and roll back this thick, dark curtain of grief. May his mother, a woman I love and respect so much, have some moments to escape. Some corners, places, and dreams that are not shrouded by these unrelenting waves of grief.
We will miss you, Charles. Be embraced by your Savior and rest in His perfect love.