Dear Friend of Mine

Dear Friend,

I'm not using your "real" name to protect your identity, but you know who you are! I know you probably wouldn't mind since you've always been an "easy-to-get-along-with" kind of guy.  Recently, I heard through a mutual friend about the deaths of your two sons.  Shocking!  I knew in my gut the grief battle that has/had engulfed you.  I began to pray,  the only thing I know how to do. 

"Precious Lord, take my hand, 
Lead me on, let me stand,
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn;
Through the storm,
Through the night,
Lead me on to the light,
Take my hand, precious Lord,
Lead me home." 

I prayed (and continue to) for your spirit; the condition of your heart; and the travail that follows you like your shadow.  In ways, Grief moves everywhere you move; it becomes your silhouette.  And when the sun goes down and your shadow companion disappears for a while, dark clouds replace it.  Like a starless night, midnight black envelopes your very soul and leaves you with no tangible way to gauge your footsteps.  You stumble so often that it becomes easier just to stop walking and stay indoors.  

Yet memories of your beloved sons track you from room to room.  You can't help but recall situations and events that happened years ago.  Bittersweet occasions that you try, without success, to bury.  But can't.  Friends try but cannot penetrate the fog of pains, anger, and angst.  Often unwillingly, you resent them because they still have sons or daughters, so their words of consolation hang suspended in space.  You really just want them to go away, to disappear.  Please! But being alone with your thoughts is much worse.

Nights loom large and you wonder how to find "surcease from sorrow," as others promise---if only for the night.

"I don't care who's right or wrong,
I don't try to understand;
Let the devil take tomorrow, Lord
Tonight I need a friend.
Yesterday is dead and gone
And tomorrow's out of sight,
And it's sad to be alone,
Help me make it through the night."

You hurt, 24-7, you hurt! You ache, pining for days that cannot return.  Your chant of "why, why, why" reverberates but produces no satisfactory answers.  It's devastating to outlive one child, but two?!?!? Come on, man! That's too much! You wear out carpets trying to tire yourself out long enough to sleep.  When you do catnap, you toss and turn like you're being chased.  "Sleep Deprived Sadness" becomes your alias.

Your health deteriorates, but who cares? What's the use? Your sense of self has left you, too.  You're an "Ex." A cipher.  A "Used To Be."  Nothing.  What I can tell you, Dear Friend is what I did when Courtney died:  I turned all the Grief," barrels filled many times over, I turned them all over to God, the Author, and Finisher of our faith.  It's taking time; in fact, I'm still doing it. I give all Grief to God, go back and get it, and then start all over again.  Countless times. 

"I come to the garden alone,
While the dew is still on the roses,
And the voice I hear, falling on my ear,
The Son of God discloses.
And He walks with me,
And He talks with me,
And He tells meI am His own,
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever  known." 

If you don't still have my cell number, we have mutual friends who do.  You know where I live because you painted my home.  I'll be here, and whether we talk or see each other again, I'll continue to pray for you, my Friend,  Blessings await you!