Tonight the pain of missing Jalayne is so very intense. It is the .....pain in every fiber of my being, taught muscles, I feel nauseated, can't sleep, can't read, can't even pray........ kind of missing her that has become so familiar. This night finds me, once again, trying to wrap my brain around the enormity of not seeing her again this side of heaven. I look at her pictures and desperation claws at me from the depths of my soul. The need to hold her, touch her, kiss her is beyond description.
I find myself wondering again, as I have too many times to count, if I am going to go out of my mind. I'm not sure that I believe, at this moment, in the saying "God will not give you more than you can handle." I have no confidence that I can "handle" this. I'm not at all convinced that I am going to make it. Even this frustrates me as I have no idea what it looks like to not "make it."
I struggle at times with feeling disconnected. There is a surreal sense that this is not really happening to us. I am on the outside, looking in, through a foggy window, at these people who are living a nightmare that will not end. When I look at her pictures I have to tell myself that yes, she was really here. Those 2.5 beatiful years were not just a figment of my imagination. She was here and she was mine and now she is gone and I am left with pictures, memories and unspeakable pain.
I suspect that this is a result of our evening activities. We attended the Harvest Service for our church, an afternoon/evening of outreach involving hay rack rides, pulled pork and other food, and worship. It seemed that there were small children everywhere. There were little girls with pigtails atop their heads, bundled warm against the cold, and faces stained with chocolate. A voice inside my head screamed at me all evening that "I should have Laynee here with me," while another voice screamed "Laynee's dead, she's not coming back." I sat tonight as a silent spectator as several different parents lost sight of their small children and were searching for them and was reminded that for us, this was a fatal mistake. My arms felt like lead, heavy and aching from the need to snuggle her on my lap to keep her warm. In my mind I tried desperately to conjure up an image of what she might have looked like as a 3.5 year old. I was alone, surrounded by hundreds of people, yet alone in my own private torture. The only thing I wanted was to get away, go home to where safety is. This reminded me of why I stay far away from things like this. I don't care if we are not as involved as we maybe should be. I don't care!!!!!!
It is in moments such as this that God seems so far away. I need answers. I need to know why this happened. Where was he then? Where is he now? I know there are answers, they are even written here in this blog, by my own hand. My head knows the answers..... "God's ways are far above mine. He knows the beginning from the end. God is good, all the time".....but sometimes, like tonight those words seem empty and useless. According to my heart, those answers just aren't good enough.
CS Lewis once said that "grief is like the sky, it covers everything." In recent weeks, our family has found that this is so very true. It seems that there is no right or wrong way to travel this path of grief. I have created this blog in hopes that some day we will be able to look back on our journey and see written proof that our great God never leaves us. God is good all the time.