To console those who mourn in Zion,
To give them beauty for ashes,
The oil of joy for mourning,
The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
That they may be called trees of righteousness,
The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.

Isaiah 61:3

Dear Grief,

Your company has been bittersweet.  You have brought back the greatest memories in my darkest times, all the while you make me realize I will not be able to re-live those moments again.

Let me be clear,

It’s not about rewinding my life because I don’t want to live backwards, but I strive to move forward.  It’s not that I desire to go back to my elementary school years when I lived in Puerto Rico or experience the misery of having to move to another country without knowledge of the language.   Being uprooted and replanted somewhere else took a lot of adjustments in such a critical age.  I definitely don’t miss my high school years, which I spent in a corner reading books because I didn’t know how to relate to my peers.  But even through the happiest of times such as celebrating birthdays, graduations, promotions and milestones… no, I definitely don’t want to go back, even when I’m tempted.  I don’t want to watch myself get my heart broken for the first time and I definitely don’t want to go back to a time before my husband or my son became part of my life. I’ve made so many mistakes I choose not to re-live.  It is often too easy to close our eyes and dream of what could have been; to pray for another chance, and to desire to say or do differently.  However, this isn’t a case of regrets.

It is much crueler than that.  It’s a sense of hopelessness knowing that my mom will not be here for my son’s high school graduation or any other important event in his lifetime.  I won’t be able to “re-live” accomplishments and disappointments through my son’s eyes with my mother by my side.  It’s the fact that when I call her phone, she will no longer respond.  Trust me, I’ve caved to the urge and I’ve called her thinking I could hear her voice once more, but unfortunately, I couldn’t even get to her voicemail because her phone has been disconnected.  Any type of important and not-so important advice I may be seeking, I have to submit to knowing she’s no longer able to provide that for me.  Her advice may have not always been welcomed, but it was constantly debated, and sometimes even rejected.  But her heart was to ensure my wellness because she always and selflessly looked out for my best interests.  Now I know this because you, oh grief, have relaid this message to me as I recollect those memories that sting my soul.  I can’t go back and change my response or my reaction; but, grief, you weren’t there when we had closure; when we forgave each other’s trespasses and I repeated how much I loved her over and over again until she drew her last breath.

The dreams about her haunt me every night.  Every morning I wake up, I have to remind myself about her passing– it was just a dream, one cruel dream.  Whether we are on vacation together or we part and we say goodbye, these dreams feel 100% real and her voice is still reassuring me that “this too shall pass…”

Oh grief, do not consume me.  I fear to lose you, my biggest ally, because I simply don’t want to forget her; but at the same time, I’m tired of answering everyone’s questions on how we are doing.  You’ve become a slow, calculated, and nagging process; but then you wonder why most choose to skip you.  Running away from you was enticing, but choosing you was the most reasonable option.  You promise faster healing and relief, while running away from you would have led me bitterly back to you anyway.

You come in different shapes, colors and we all decide to wear you differently.  This makes it difficult for those on the outside to relate.  Sometimes we want to be comforted, but most days, we want to be left alone.  Yet if no one pursues us, you grief make us feel offended; if a friend finally comes alongside of us and even attempts to give us sympathy, you make us feel invaded.  Which is it?  Because I’m tired of sending mixed messages to those who care and even those who don’t know how to care.

Oh grief, do me a favor and don’t stop me from showing vulnerability; don’t make me feel embarrassed or uncomfortable when I choose to cry; don’t make me feel guilty when I laugh and have a good time.  I’ve exposed my open wounds to the light hoping they will be healed faster than if I kept them hidden inside.  Although the pain is immeasurable, older scars give me the confidence to keep walking; don’t let me lose faith, even  if I limp and stumble and gain more scratches through this painful pilgrimage.

Oh grief, don’t blind me from those random acts of kindness; don’t fill me with your anger and bitterness; don’t prevent me from thanking God for all the blessings He’s given me despite your visit; and most importantly, don’t rob me from my joy while I mourn; and let me forgive quicker knowing we are not promised tomorrow.

Let me rest knowing my God, whom I serve, is faithful and He will restore me from my brokenness and give me beauty for ashes.

You are merely a visitor who will not over-stay your welcome.  Please, fulfill your purpose and show me what you came to teach me; at some point, we must part until it is time to meet again…

Sincerely Yours,

Ally

Where The Light Shines Through by Switchfoot

When you’re feeling like an astronaut
Stuck on a planet even time forgot, and
You’re a version of yourself, but you’re not the same
You try to keep the wound camouflaged, and
The stitches heal, but the years are lost, and
Another bottle on the shelf can’t numb the pain

Why are you running from yourself now?
You can’t run away

‘Cause your scars shine like dark stars
Yeah, your wounds are where the light shines through
So let’s go there, to that place where
We sing these broken prayers where the light shines through–
The wound is where the light shines through
Yeah, the wound is where the light shines through

Ain’t we all just Abraham’s son?
Saint and sinner with the song and drum, and
We’re fallen on our knees, we all bleed the same
And the only tattoos I have are scars
I got your name written on my heart
And the story that brought us here ain’t the thing that changed, no

I wanna see that light shining
Brighter than the pain

Mama, ain’t the blood just proof I’m human?
Mama, ain’t the wound just retribution?
Well Mama, ain’t the scar like a vision of grace?