Today, I sat helpless in my kitchen knowing that a friend was facing a hard thing.
Her hard thing isn’t one that I have experienced. Her hard thing is one I can’t really imagine. Her hard thing is one that has stretched and limped and roared and picked but no matter what, she couldn’t make it go away.
Her young adult son has cancer, and today, he closed his eyes for the last time.
As I’ve sat here alone, I have tried to imagine. I have tried to imagine if you see the infant baby staring up at you with utter trust. I have tried to imagine if you see the first day of preschool or the last day of high school. Do you see the moments of frustration or fear that you undoubtedly had and wish you had do-overs? Do you feel the pudgy arms hugging you and the sweaty face pressed against yours with dirty tears running down after a crazy child-moment? Do you see the movies you didn’t allow and the parties you did, or the times you postponed a conversation because the laundry wasn’t done or didn’t go on a walk because it was too hot out? Do you remember the last carefree laugh, or dinner that wasn’t carrying a shadow, or worrying about things that didn’t include forevers? Do you see past the pictures of the tubes and the needles and the possibilities of potential help drifting by and shouting NO! STOP! YOU DON’T GET IT- this is MY SON to the moments of caring about the color of tie for prom?
Oh my friend, this is a hard thing. A hard thing that will make you dig deep in your soul and shout out in pain and look at the rest of the world like it is nuts for moving on.
A hard thing that will keep you up at night and not let you get out of bed. That will create moments of thinking you could do more and moments of knowing everything was done. A hard thing of pain and sadness and loneliness and utter, despicable emptiness.
But beautiful girl, you can do hard things.
And you are not alone. He did hard things first, and He will journey to and through this hell with you. Nothing you can throw on Him will make him leave you – not rage, or disappointment, or anger, or contempt, or doubt. Take his hand, beautiful girl. Go.
4 thoughts on “More Hard Things”
Cancer sucks and no one wants to be in the club your friend has joined, mothers who have to bury a child. My heart goes out to her, and to you, and to all those who knew this young man and loved him and now face the days to come without him. Praying supernatural comfort for each of you. May the Lord of all hold you close.
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Thank you for caring, and praying. Hugs to you.
I am so sorry for your loss and for the heartache your friend is certainly experiencing. This is such a hard thing. This post is truly beautiful. I loved every word of it and found it to be very powerful. I hope you give it to her and let her read it. She will need this encouragement every day. I am saving this for myself too.
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Oh Secret Keeper, thank you for your soothing and kind words. They really give strength. Hugs to you.
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