Strength in the Sorrow

Today would have been my father’s 72nd birthday. Tomorrow will be the anniversary of his death.

Every year I think I’ll be strong enough to get through these few days without breaking down. Every year I’m wrong because sorrow doesn’t play fair. When sorrow comes, it comes with the force of an army to beat down the walls around my chest until my vulnerable heart is exposed, and then it drains me of the strength to even breathe. There really isn’t any way to stop the onslaught. I just have to suffer through and wait it out.

The logical part of me gets a little miffed at that tender side of me. Giving in to the emotional messiness of mourning follows no predetermined pattern. I am a row boat in a hurricane, and I’ve lost the oars. Overwhelming and confusing, the frustration of it all leaves me lethargic...apathetic to the demands of life.

A part of me is angry with the world for acting like nothing happened. People are getting married, babies are being born, shoppers fill the malls as if it were the holidays...and I just want to scream at them to stop. How dare they act as if nothing is wrong while I’m sitting here drowning in the unrelenting deluge of my tears.

How dare people continue to live.

But that’s what we do, isn’t it? We suffer through until we find the strength to face normality. We hold on to the hope that the pain will subside and life will, somehow, be filled with love and joy again. We wait impatiently for the moment when we can breathe without guilt or pain.

As I fumble my way through these next couple of days I find that the strength I need is not within me. There is nothing left of that headstrong and self-assured woman who, just yesterday, inhabited my skin. I’ve plowed down through the very depth of my soul and I’ve found nothing there but the ache of loss.

The only strength I have is gathered from those who love me. Their strength is a blanket that I can wrap around my heart and it keeps me warm as the assault of sorrow continues. I lack the effort to breathe, to walk, to even move from this moment. It is my friends who give me breath, the strength to walk and to move forward. Right now, their arms hold me up and their love gives me the strength to put one foot in front of the other and move towards the moment when the pain no longer owns me.

It is through their strength that I can return to my life again.

My blessings in life are many. I live a life filled with contentment and peace, and the most profound blessing that God has honored me with are the people in my life. As Jesus mourned with Martha and Mary at Lazarus’ tomb, He also mourns with me and I feel that love poured out through the hearts of my friends. For this, I am eternally grateful.

In a few days, I will be myself again. The rawness of my emotions will have been tamed, the tears will have dried up. Thankfully, life will go on because I am surrounded by people that will not let me give up or let me get lost in the emotional storm.

When sorrow comes to you, and someday it will, please call me. It will steal your strength and make it difficult to breathe, to move...but I have strength that you can borrow. I will be your breath, your feet if necessary. I will be what you cannot be. We are not meant to face the trials of life alone, and I’m here for you, just as you were there for me. I will be your strength in the sorrow as you have been mine.