Every morning is the same. Wake up, get dressed, eat, leave for work or school. You smile as you pass a friend or a coworker. You sit and do your work, stop for lunch, then again with the fake smiles. You come home, eat, watch a movie and go to bed. The cycle of things to do is the same. But what nobody sees is the inner struggle to get up and do those things everyday.
You sleep on their favorite pillowcase. You love the cereal they hated. Their song plays on the radio on the way to work. And all day long you think about how your life would be different if they hadn’t died. You wonder if you’d be more successful, happier, more confident if they hadn’t been taken so soon. Sure, your fingers do the typing and your mouth says everything everyone wants to hear, but deep inside you’re not really paying attention. You’re lost in thought, lost in the sadness and grief that never seems to leave.
It feels like a continuous cycle of the stages of grief, because it is. Just when you think you’ve accepted the loss, the depression comes and hits you in the gut. You feel unable to move, to carry on. You soon realize you have responsibilities, so you pick yourself up by the bootstraps and you move…only to see someone taking advantage of their parents. A child, young adult or grown adult abusing their parent and taking them for granted and it makes you angry. Angry at what they’re doing, but more angry that yours was taken so early. Angry that people who don’t deserve their parents get to keep them, while you have to go without. It’s unfair.
There isn’t a moment you don’t think about them. On occasion, it’s a good thought. A happy memory that doesn’t make you swell with tears. More often than not however, it hurts. You feel jipped of memories, time and experiences. Nobody understands. Even when they say they do, they don’t. You don’t want them to understand, it’s a trial you’d never wish on your worst enemy. You don’t wish it because it’s lonely.
The days turn into months, and months turn into years. You struggle to move on and grow because they’re not there to watch and cheer you on. People try to be comforting and say that, “they’re so proud of you.” But they don’t know. Nobody does. Instead of being comforting, it’s hurtful.
Every single day is a trial. Every occasion, big or small, is a trial. Every time you hear their name your heart does this twitch. Every birthday and holiday is sad yet happy. You want to celebrate them and the influence they were on your life, but you’re sad because you can’t actually celebrate with them. You’d do anything for one final hug, or a telephone call to heaven every 10 years. But there isn’t one.
You find the courage to share with friends and strangers your struggle and sorrow. They put their arm on your back and say, “How wonderful is it to know that we’ll see them again!” A completely true statement, we will see them again and be reunited. Does that ease the pain you feel today? No, it doesn’t.
The Gospel of Jesus Christ is perfect. God gave us His Son. Jesus Christ atoned for our sins, we know that for sure. He also felt our pains and sorrows. He knows us personally and perfectly. So why, knowing and having faith in the wonderful plan He provided, do we still ache? Why do we experience grief and sorrow so unbearable?
There isn’t a comforting answer. No answer could ever make the pain worth it. Jesus Christ is there for us, always. He never leaves us. Having the knowledge that we’ll see them again only comforts in times you are not grieving. The level of comfort is not huge, it isn’t even life changing. The comfort is just a small voice, or a warm feeling of knowing you aren’t alone. But, it’s not even comparable to the hurt you feel.
I taught this wonderful plan for 16 months. Every single day I knocked on peoples doors, shared messages with members, taught Pastors and Priests, and told them of the Plan of Happiness that Jesus Christ has provided. My testimony increased and was strengthened. The light that shined in their eyes as we spoke of seeing our loved ones again was truly magnificent. It gave them hope. It gave them a reason to keep on living. But even through all the testimony sharing and the spirit testifying, I couldn’t help but feel a little empty. Grief is real. Depression is real. Sorrow and anguish are incredibly real. No amount of knowledge of the Gospel can truly ease the pain of losing a loved one.
I’m writing this because Tuesday is the 13th anniversary of my Dad passing. Not a day goes by that I dont think about him, or the life I could have had if he wasn’t taken so soon. I know and trust that I’ll see him again. However, it doesn’t comfort me when I have another 60 years to live. It didn’t comfort me when I graduated High School and saw an empty seat that he should have been in. It didn’t comfort me when I made the basketball team and there was one less fan cheering for me. It doesn’t comfort me today.
Not everyday is miserable. You find joy, you find your tribe and love them hard. You excel at work and in your career. You make adult choices and there are people still rooting for you. You are happy. You are not always miserable. You don’t always dwell on your loss. It is however, in the back of your mind. With everything you do a glimpse of them pops into your head. You sometimes push it out. Maybe you smile for a quick second as you continue on. There is still good to be found in life, even after a loss so great. Everything you go through is compared to that moment. No other trial even seems to compare. But you keep on, keepin on. You move forward. You break down, you take pauses. You cuss out the world. You scream. You get in your car and drive around for hours. But you continue on.
The world according to me 