Lost

A wife who loses a husband is called a widow.

 A husband who loses a wife is called a widower. A

 child who loses his parents is called an orphan.

But...there is no word for a parent who loses a child

Track season is full upon us.  It's a busy time of year.  Track meets are long, eating up an entire afernoon and evening.  With both girls running, one in high school and one in middle school, we have several track meets a week.   I love to watch the girls run.   I am their biggest fan.  I have watched two beautiful girls of mine grow and blossom as a direct result of their hard work and dedication to running.  I have witnessed as they enjoy successes and stand strong against disappointments.  I have observed as they learn the valuable lesson that talent without hard work is nothing ,but hard work combined with talent is a gift. 

This year as I go to the meets, I feel an odd but unshakable sense of being lost.  There is a feeling that somehow I don't fit in, that something is missing.  Laynee is missing and it is blatantly obvious.  She should be running all over the place at the meets and I , in turn, should be breathless from chasing her and keeping her safe.  I should be holding my breath in fear that she will fall between the bleachers.  I should have a bag packed with sippy cup, pretzels and fruit snacks to keep her tummy satisfied as we watch race after race.   I should be pointing out to her that the girls are on the starting line.  I should be drawing her attention back to the track each time the girls pass the bleachers.  I should be holding her up so she can see and cheer on her sisters, her very favorite people.  But I'm not,  all of this is missing and I feel lost without it.  If Moise is there I can occupy myself with him.  It's a much slower pace as he manuevers his walker through the throngs of people, but it feels somewhat normal.  If Jim is there we take turns watching Moise, which leaves me with periods of feeling undeniably lost.

I feel cut off and hopelessly out of touch with other parents.  I know that this is in no way a reflection of others, but a feeling that is within me and me alone.  The heavy weight of grief has put me into a category in which few can relate.  I am in a place where those in my social circle have never been.  The shoes I wear, the ugly shoes of tragic loss, are tight and uncomfortable because so few have worn them before me.  It is difficult to find a subject to discuss with other parents because my every thought is clouded by searing loss.  There is a painful sense of disconnect, as though somehow, I have not only lost my child but the abiltiy to relate to other parents. 

Often I feel alone.  I do not wish to burden others with my own heavy sadness.  Always  I am aware of the inadequacy of words.  It is this loneliness that brings me to fall before my Lord over and over again. It is in His arms and through His word  that I find comfort and hope.  I know that my God understands my aching heart.  He sees every tear that is shed.  He too has lost.  It is in these times when I am alone, when the weight of isolation presses upon me,  that I most feel His love and His comapassion.  It is in these times that I hear Him say, "You are not alone, I KNOW"

Blessed are those who mourn; for they shall be comforted

Matthew 5:4