Wednesday, 13 September 2017

A new worldview

When my son died of brain cancer, things changed... 

Disclaimer: Maybe I explain these things to myself this way because subconsciously I cannot accept defeat. Or maybe I am just trying to make sense of what cannot humanly be understood. Whatever it is, these are my thoughts, my crazy internal monologue, that bring me some peace as I grieve my son's death. Please don't judge. 

Since you’ve been gone…
I have not lived in fear. 

For many months, even years before you died, my prayer was simple:Dear God, please take away my fear in exchange for strength.I said these words every night when I went to bed never knowing if tomorrow – or the next day or the next day - would be the last with my son. Fear was often what kept us going. It was a blessing in disguise, but also a difficult way to live. As Xavier grew more and more tired of being sick, I grew tired of being scared. Fear of his death had gripped our family for so long. It never allowed us to fully relax or forget the pain. I asked Jesus to carry my fear for me so I could be present with Xavier every day we had together. I felt Jesus holding me up when the fear was so strong I could barely stand. He held it back for me to experience moments of joy and appreciate life as it was. But the fear wasn’t gone. It was still there. Until the day you died. It was God’s grace – an unexpected answer to my prayer. Your leaving was the only escape from the fear. Xavier was relieved of his suffering and we were relieved of our fear. At first I wondered if God misunderstood my prayers. Maybe I messed up and should have prayed for Jesus to never take my son away. Maybe if I had prayed harder or longer things wouldn’t have ended the way they did. I never meant for it to be this way. I would have lived in fear forever if it meant I got to keep Xavier here. But I trusted God’s plan. My fear is now pain.But pain is a dimension of love. My tears are a release of my love for you. They say what my heart feels that words cannot.Fear showed up as anger. It made me tense and anxious. Since you’ve been gone I am not afraid anymore. I am not scared of death, of failure or what others think. To some, my lack of fear may appear like carelessness, but it is furthest from the truth. I care about how beautiful the sunset it, the softness of the grass and the turning of the leaves. I am not afraid to take a risk, to show a stranger love or if I didn’t get my house cleaned before company shows up. Since you’ve been gone “things” don’t matter. Things don’t make my life any better or any richer. I am seeing the bigger picture, but not yet fully accepting. Xavier’s death has turned me into something better, someone beyond this physical body I felt so attached to. Although I miss him beyond words, I have a peace within. 

There are universal "truths" we just believe as we go through life. A perceived "natural" order of things that are in our human DNA.

People die of old age. Parents are supposed to outlive their children. Kids aren't supposed to die. Suffering is bad. Life is eternal.

Why do we believe these things? Aside from life being eternal, which is written in the Bible, no where (that I have come across) does the Bible guarantee us a life free of pain, suffering or tell us the "right time" to die is when you are old.

We use this to create our own reality that in turn creates good and bad and unhappiness when the good doesn't happen the way we think it should. I read my first column in the first issue of  inspire magazine and found that I still see things the very same way then as I do now. The only difference is that I still had my son then.

This experience has not turned me cold or calloused as it may seen because of my disinterest in a materialist world. I thought maybe my compassion was gone as I have a hard time listening to others "minor" first-world problems. But in fact I am still the compassionate person I always was, I just see things for what they are... just things.

I don't see our world as doom in gloom. Losing my son opened my eyes to the connectedness we have with everything. The beauty of nature and all the little things that bring me peace that no big materialistic thing could do.

 

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