Skip to main content

Pieces

I've been to several counselors to help me through this grieving process.  While I think a couple have been pretty good and probably helped me get through some of the darkest times, there was one who simply raised the hair on my back.  After our first, and only visit,  I left her office feeling like not one person in the world understood this sorrow.  She who seemed so grounded, so peaceful, so willing to help one struggling in pain. We concluded our meeting after relaying to her the horrific story of my beautiful son's accident, hospitalization and then his death.  I shared my pain, opened my heart and prayed that she would be able to guide me to clarity, to hope, to living again.  As we concluded, with sweetness dripping from her words, she said, "we'll put the pieces back together."  At that moment, I realized she didn't have a clue; not one iota of a clue....clue-less she was, absolutely clueless.  PUT THE PIECES BACK TOGETHER!!! What planet were you on for the last 45 minutes?  PIECES BACK TOGETHER!  You crazy idiot.  There is a HUGE piece missing and it ain't coming back in this lifetime...did you not get that! Exactly how am I going to piece my life back together when there is a piece missing, when my heart is gone.

I don't believe in all my life I've been quite so offended or incensed. How could someone trained to help people cope with struggles and challenges be so utterly shallow, so completely devoid of understanding the gravity of death.

It's been a while since I met with this impostor of a counselor, but I will not soon forget her cutting words, her inconceivable naivety in dealing with matters of the heart, of love and loss, of pain and sorrow, of life and death. I shall never forget her words.

I shall always see my life as one without its center, without its heart.


I miss my son more than words can even begin to express, but I carry him with me each day and know without failing that one day, one day, I will hold him in my arms again and we will laugh, and sing and dance and we will share in each other's delight and I will revel in his beauty and praise God for his wonderful, beautiful, awesome gift of Wyatt. My beautiful, precious son; my son; my heart; my Wyatt.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Seeing God Where I am

O God, who created all peoples in your image, we thank you for the wonderful diversity of races and cultures in this world. Enrich our lives by ever-widening circles of fellowship, and show us your presence in those who differ most from us, until our knowledge of your love is made perfect in our love for all your children; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.   Carolyn A. Rose I've had the distinct privilege in life to have traveled to various places, some vastly different from my home, and some quite similar.  Regardless of the magnitude of differences, I can always feel the uniqueness of the place. After a while, certainly I long for the familiar comfort of home... but I always return with a fuller heart and a more open mind. Then it's like a siren song calling me back to seek more, ask more, learn more and inwardly digest it to build me into a more understanding and compassionate being.  In a class I am taking, we were posed this question: How have ...
Post a Comment
Read more

I AM

A little step away from my personal grief journey and a turn toward the current times.  As of today, over 100,000 humans around the world have died due to the worldwide pandemic of Coronavirus or COVID-19. People are isolated. Borders around the globe have closed. Schools are closed. Airlines are grounded. Massive amounts of food sits rotting unable to be distributed. People are hoarding and supply chains are stressed. Businesses have closed. Governments scramble. Hospitals are maxed.  Care centers are incubators of death.  Medical personnel are at higher risk than ever yet we demand more and more from them.  The bodies of the dead are left to rot on the streets, held in morgues, or turned into mass graves. Funerals and memorials are in abeyance. There is neither time nor place for grieving. Isolation is wicked. Tensions can be high and panic pervasive.    Blame begins. Anger festers to hatred.  The fragile nature of our ex...
Post a Comment
Read more

That Dust again...

The death of an only child leaves an indelible mark on the soul. There is a vacant place in living that is never filled, never eased. I know that now; if I live to be 110, it will be true then. When your only child dies it's one thing, when your only child dies before he had children of his own, it's another thing.  I'm not saying any loss of a child is greater than another; on the contrary, they all come with unique challenges. It's just that that when life prances around shouting "look at me, look at me" with the young boy walking around the lake holding his mom's hand, grandma tucking her granddaughter in at night, graduation ceremonies and proms, tournaments, plays and recitals, weddings, new jobs, and babies, they all make it so painfully clear how my time with all of that is over. Stolen. With most things in this life we have a choice, but not this. This is not my choice. This is so different from something we choose, it's not what job to take or...
2 comments
Read more