Veiled

I have been in a state of mourning too long. Someone dear to me passed away 8 years ago. My heart broke, but not only for the loss, I was devastated to not have a memorial to attend. Her family held no funeral service or wake. It was as if she never existed.

At the most inexplicable times, I would catch a glimpse of her smile. I could feel her presence when my second daughter was born, when I crossed a 5K finish line, when I threw a party. She was there, but only in the background - a fuzzy feeling in my head and an ache in my heart.

Her death felt like a storm inside me - rumbling, crashing and dangerous. I never had the closure of a goodbye or the peace knowing she was resting in comfort, so the storm continue to swirl. The resentment boiled up into anger inside of me. No one cared to acknowledge the loss, talk about her, or attempted to understand my pain. How could they go on as if nothing changed?

I took my hurt and crawled into a cave for which no one else had the address. While I have incredible support and companionship in my life, I have been immersed in such a sadness that a shell of pity surrounded me like the cloud of dirt and smell around Pigpen in the Charlie Brown cartoons. The pain became a barrier between me and everyone else.

There was a bridge not one person could cross. I was saving it for her.

It was a revelation when one day I woke up and a veil was lifted. My girls were playing down the hall in their rooms, while my husband's smooth sleepy breathing was a perfect, even tempo. It was extraordinarily ordinary. The same old thing felt new. I smiled and felt her rise up within me. While she changed at the scene of the crash all those years ago, maybe she didn't die. Maybe people weren't grieving her, because she was there...just different on the inside. Maybe she was lost.

I climbed out of bed with purpose. Everything would change now. I remember her - carefree, fun, and full of wit and joy. She had a spark and a great thirst for life. It's time to help her quench that thirst.

“being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ;” Phil 1:6

God did not start in me what He did not intend for me to finish. It may have taken me way too long to feel His arms around me, carrying me, but I am grateful He didn't give up. Now, as I learned to walk as a toddler, I will learn to walk out of the dark cave, practicing my balance, building my strength, and loving myself despite my many broken pieces. I will find confidence in my scars and power from my trauma.