Too much Death

I don't know if it's just me, but it feels like I can't hop on FaceBook or even the news without hearing about world-rocking loss hitting someone I know.  One day, I spent about five minutes online and found news of three deaths, all in rapid succession. A friend of mine posted a news article of how her niece and her niece's best friend were hit by a truck, which killed one of them.  Another friend is reeling from the death of a cousin.  Another friend's mother unexpectedly passed away.  And so on.  Then, of course, were the loss of the three-year-old I wrote about last time and the loss of my good friend's beloved husband I wrote about some time ago.  They all break my heart because they were so sudden and unexpected.  Each of them broke multiple hearts.  And the list of loss rolls on.  For the sake of one of my friends, I looked up a FaceBook support group for mothers of angels.  Now, I get the stream on my FaceBook wall of pictures of babies mourned.  It's almost a shock to see a baby who is still alive and well. 

I don't actually know most of those who were lost, but I feel their pain.  It's so hard to be living life, feeling like everything is okay when someone calls or something happenszx, and your world falls apart.  I run into constant reminders of how fragile life is and how precious the moments are.  I know families can be forever, but loss is so hard in the here and now.  I fell into the trap of self-blame, and I can only imagine that's a very real struggle in the lives of many of those who have lost those they love. 

It's such a helpless feeling to hear about someone's pain when you can't do anything.  All you want to do is take away their pain, yet you know it's not possible.  All I can do in many cases is pray for their peace.  Healing is hard.  I know my prayers and others' prayers softened the pain.  I know the Lord carried me when I could no longer walk.  I just hope and pray those with such fresh pain are blessed with the same.

The Echo of Fresh Loss

A little over a week ago, the shock of terrible news echoed throughout our community.  A three-year-old girl was thrown from a horse and had to be taken off life support.  Everyone spoke of little else.  Those in my church community, led by our bishop, gathered at the church to pray for this little girl and this family before the final news came that she was brain dead.  We all prayed for a miracle because we know they happen.  In this case, it was that sweet angel child's time to go Home. 

Once again, my community gathered for a balloon release in her honor.  People came from miles around to support this family in their deep loss at that little girl's funeral, as she was carried to her grave not in a hearse but by a horse-drawn carriage. 

My husband and I wept for this family as we heard of their loss.  Something came up to stop me from making each event, but I rejoiced in the support they received.  I sent that little girl's bereft mother a message of support on FaceBook, and my husband attended most of it. 

I am not close to the family.  I may have seen the little girl in passing but had not met her.  But this hit my husband and me hard because we understand what this family is going through on a personal level.  It all echoes back through time and makes our pain feel fresh.  I woke in tears over a dream that my two living children had died. 

It also reminds me of how little support we received when our loss happened.  We felt judged, rejected by our community at the time because we'd failed in a parent's primary responsibility: to keep a child alive.  The undercurrent was that whatever happened, we deserved what we got.  If only all communities could understand the power of support and love at the time of such a deep and life-shattering loss.  We still felt people's prayers and did have friends and family from nearby and elsewhere come to the funeral, but I think the loss would have been even a little bit less impossible to endure if we had the kind of support this sweet family had.  I'm just happy for them that they have it and would pray for all who have a catastrophic loss that they'd feel the kind of outpouring of love this sweet family has had. 

I know some people probably question how all of these prayers did not result in a miracle.  How could such a terrible thing happen to good people?  I sometimes, I have to remind myself that prayer is about aligning our will with the Father's.  He knows the larger picture.  If we would have been most blessed, the plan for our lives most fulfilled, over the healing of our baby Alli, she would have been healed. 

But the Lord, in His mercy, knew we had to pass through hell at that time.  I can't explain why everyone loses a child, but I believe I have come to some understanding of the whys in our case.  We needed the growth, the empathy, the lessons we learned through loss. 

Faith is about trusting that He knows what we need.  We want this thing, and we pray for it.  But if we don't get it, we will still trust and believe.  That is the purest kind of faith, the faith that gets us closest to Him.  If I could have it all over again, would I choose a redo?  You'd better believe I would.  I'd give my life for my little girl rather than have her taken from me. 

I'm thankful for the blessings that have come from this loss, but I still have a hard time being grateful for the loss itself.  I can't claim to know everything, even about our own situation.  It brings me comfort to know I will hold Alli again, that we will be a family forever.  It also brings me comfort to know my heart can be healed through Jesus's sacrifice, his atonement.  In the meantime, it still hurts.  And my heart still bleeds for those who have to join the empty arms club.  I will reach out to them as often as I can. 

I believe in angels, and that they watch over us.  I believe God loves me.  I believe we can be together forever.  For now, that will have to do.