The worst feeling in this world from my perspective is the feeling of utter hopelessness.
When my son left this world, I found myself entrenched is this dark prison where no Hope did reside. There was nothing I could do to bring my child back to me. It was a state of complete powerlessness and helplessness.
I was never a ‘controller’, yet I managed my own household on my own, had my own business and was a sub-contractor for an International company, worked a 2nd job as an independent employee, all while raising 4 children. I had 3 teenage boys along with a little girl who was ten years younger than the youngest boy. I could switch hats at the drop of a dime. I was a successful business woman with 3 computers in my office so I could work from home; three phone lines so I could quickly change hats depending on which phone was ringing; comfort my little one as only a Mommy could do; and could quickly put on my army boots when I needed to kick some ass with the teen boys. I look back on those times and know that what I accomplished was strictly by the Grace of God.
Suddenly, I was thrust into a world I could not navigate. Nothing in my life could have prepared me for burying my child. This well-accomplished oak tree was instantly transformed into a weeping willow. I could barely function. I became a helpless zombie incapable of focusing on the simplest task of putting together a meal. The feeling of helplessness drove me into a pit of despair. Auto-pilot had become my default mode. Out of desperation, I dabbled in self-blame simply to ‘feel’ as if I did have some degree of control in the situation. I welcomed even the false guilt that accompanied it for even that offered some element of relief from the utter helplessness and hopelessness.
In one of my son’s poems, he wrote:
The tears that now make their path
Down my newly, older face, do not scar
But cleanse the wounds of my past.
They do no harm, but heal.
They are the tears that are shed only by a few
Fortunate to find hope through a hole
I needed to find that ‘hole’, instead of the quagmire into which I had fallen.
In the words my son left behind, the answer was: Hope. But I had to travel through that tunnel of hopelessness to get at it. There were no short-cuts, no detours, no available by-pass.
Like Alice, I feared I would first drown in my own tears.
Unlike Alice, I would not wake up to one day realize it had all been but a dream. Rather, I needed to believe that Hope was possible.
“Grieve Not as Those Who Have No Hope” …(1 Thessalonians 4:13-18)
(((HUGS))) Jude Gibbs, Author of ‘Gifts of the Ashes’ available at: Xulon Press, Amazon, Barnes & Noble and DeeperShopping. Contributor on ‘The Mighty’: https://themighty.com/2017/03/the-pain-of-holidays-after-the-loss-of-loved-ones/