Our Grief is not Complete

I am not sure who wrote the above poem.  The wording seems extreme.  But I am there.

Compared to many, I have suffered very little, and have blessings beyond compare.  I know. And I am grateful.  However, my own grief has no closure, as yet.  The loss goes on and on.  

The world continues turning, seemingly unaware that mine stopped two years ago.  And it should.  But I wish it could continue turning, without taking me along with it.

There is that dreaded, quiet hour before sleep comes at night (if it ever comes), and again when sleep fades with the morning (if indeed it ever came), when the agony of separation presses in without mercy.  The busyness of day, and the unconsciousness of night do not quite meet or overlap in that hour, allowing memories to invade my mind.

I find myself resisting the daily torment, frantically pushing my body to exhaustion in task after task, in the hope that grief will not overwhelm yet again.  How many times must I face it, before the pain is gone?  How often must I allow tears to wash my soul before healing comes?  

Friends and family must surely be weary of my story.  I certainly am.  It is the elephant in every room, every conversation of which I am a part.  It brings discomfort, demanding to be spoken of, yet not wanting to be heard.  Life must be easier for others if I and my baggage are not there.

There are moments of joy, of laughter.  But they are brief.  They dam up the reality in which we live, and when the short respite ends, the dam breaks and sorrow drowns us the more deeply, as if to make up for lost time.

I wonder, is something wrong with me, with us, that we are not "over it" yet?  Do parents who lose a child to death grieve so intensely?

The Trucker said today, "I long for my father, and so badly wish I could talk to him.  But my grief is completed.  I know why he was taken away, and I know I will see him again."

But our grief for our children is not complete.  We don't know why our children left, or when we will see them again.  And our separation from them is fraught with misunderstandings, deceptions, accusations, threats.  We are in limbo, waiting.  Bearing not only our grief, but the knowledge that behind the walls that surround their hearts is intense hurt.  Only reconciliation will ease the pain and bring understanding.  

But how will the strongholds be broken?  And when?

Even so, come Lord Jesus.