There and Back Again - Grief

I want to draw a picture for you. I want to show you what this hole in my life looks like. It is similar to the astronomical phenomenon of a black hole. It threatens to pull everything around it into its total darkness.

I want to find a way for you to hear what I hear. The rushing wind that seems to come from behind me. It pushes me towards this black hole. Shhh... can you hear it? It whistles a lonesome noise as if it has been devoid of companionable solace forever. 

I want to grab your hand. I want to ask you to form a human chain holding hands. Grab hold of something solid and hold on so that you can keep me from being forced by this tempest into the dark nothingness.

I want you to know of my fear. This fear that is so strong it brings on physical reactions - near to fainting sometimes. What I fear is that if I get pushed into this blackness there will not be any way back.

Source

An Acknowledgement

It is the middle of the night. I've been trying for hours to think of something profound or maybe lyrical to say about what is on my mind. How arrogant of me - that I'm worried about making sure you read this and say, "what an excellent piece of writing". How arrogant that I am thinking in any way of myself right this minute. The situation itself is profound. It does not need my words to sanction that. 

I did not give much of myself to either one of the people who are on my mind at this moment. Now I will at least give them the dignity of acknowledgement. 

Terri is gone. I always thought I would see her again. That will never happen now. Her addiction won the battle. She will be buried today, I think.

I don't know what the official cause of death will be on the certificate. Accidental overdose? Suicide? It does not really matter. The addiction overpowered her and now she is gone.

Freddy is in prison. His addiction took him away from his wife. I am not by any means saying that Terri's addiction would not have taken her if Freddy had been with her. I think things would have turned out much the same. Being locked up might be the only reason that Freddy has not died from this affliction.

I was not very close to either Terri or Freddy. By the time I came along, they had pretty much worn out their welcome in our mutual group of friends. I think they knew that I was not willing to participate in the madness that comes with addiction - lying to your friends, lying to yourself, chasing your tail in ever-smaller circles trying to keep that "high". But we had moments. Moments where we prayed together, laughed together, cried together, helped one another. I think both Terri and Freddy would be amazing people to be around if it weren't for the addiction.

Addiction is ugly. It does ugly things to beautiful people. The thing is - addiction wears a mask. It is a smooth operator that can reel in the best of people and then they are hooked. Living inside a body that has become so dependent on drugs that it does not know how to function without them is a prison in itself. The cravings that taunt you when you can't get a "fix" are physically painful. What happens to the mind during this process is just complete insanity. Things that you would not do otherwise begin to make perfect sense. Hurting yourself or others suddenly becomes completely justifiable because you NEED that drug and you will do whatever it takes to get it. Whatever it takes. 

To overcome addiction, you have to do whatever it takes. This side of heaven I will never understand why some people are able to grasp that and others are not. I know God could have delivered Terri if she had held onto Him. Whenever I think of her from now on, there will be that question of "why?" connected to her. She knew who He was. Why did she not throw herself at His feet and hang on for dear life? That is always the question. Why do some addicts learn to hang on and others don't? I have absolutely no answer.

What I know right this minute is that a child of God - a wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend - has lost this battle. I know that another child of God - a husband, father, son, and friend - is grieving and closed off from his loved ones.  This is my acknowledgement that their lives, addiction and all, matter.

Grieving "With Hope"

It is the middle of the night. I have brought my little computer into Mom’s room so that I won’t disturb my husband or the dogs. It is not lost on me that my refuge at this moment was the home of the one who often gave me refuge from the storms throughout my life.

I awoke into one of those moments of terrible grief. I want Mom back so much that I can feel her arms around me. At this moment, that actually is more hurtful than comforting.

Several hours ago, my sister and I were talking on the phone about how sad it is that our family waited until Mom had passed to start learning how to take care of each other. Mom had even left a note with her final instructions about how the most important thing was “family UNITY’” [emphasis hers]. We agree with that now and sometimes say, “Mom would have wanted it this way.” Why was it so hard to do before? What a gift to her it would have been to show this type of caring when she was here to see it.