Grief is a fickle thing, isn't it? Sometimes, it manifests in great, heaving sobs or wailing. Other times, it is a quiet ache that pervades through one's entire being. Grief comes out in physical aches and pains. It comes in bursts of anger which nobody sees coming. Grief interrupts the sweet memory of a loved one or the one moment of laughter you've had in ages. Grief is a cloud, a whisper, a burden, a shadow, a migraine, a cloak of darkness. Grief is that small wistful thought. It is the unspoken 'if only...' at the end of a sentence.
My grief comes from a lot of places, as we walk through this painful journey. My dad is dying from ALS and yet, I can almost handle the fact that he will die.
Please do not misunderstand me, I do not want my precious dad to be removed from this earth. I wholly submit myself to whatever future the Lord brings on that front. I do not want my dad to be gone for one second of one day. It is just that there are worse things than death. Oh, but there are things which are much worse than death.
This is ALS in a nutshell.
I am grieving the upcoming loss of my beloved father. I am grieving over the pain that my mother is in. I am grieving privately over each sister, knowing full well that she is hurting. I am grieving for my babies and for my nephews and nieces, who have never been hit so hard or so closely with the loss of someone they love.
I am grieving for our husbands, who are losing a father-in-love who has adored each one like his very own son. I am grieving that they must feel somewhat helpless to comfort us and can only really walk with us through this. I am grieving for all of these things and grieving for myself, as well.
I can handle all of this grief. I can handle every single bit of it. It is survivable because everyone who is hurting may close hearts with everyone else. We are a tightly-night family who will become that much more tightly knit through this experience.
My personal deepest level of grief is for what my dad is going through. Where I can find consolation for every other kind of pain, I have found this grief inconsolable. There is literally nothing that will assuage my Dad's condition but deliverance. It will take the form of a miracle or death. I can handle me hurting. I can handle my family hurting. I can just barely handle my mother hurting. I cannot, *cannot* handle my dad hurting this way! :'( It is this which leaves me shrieking inside my head from the depths of my soul.
I have seen several diseases up close. This disease is by far the most relentless I have ever witnessed. It doesn't stop with immobilizing and emaciating its victim. It robs the very ability to communicate. How lonely my dad must be inside! How horrible not to be able to express a pain, a thought, a care... even something as basic as an itch! Death must feel like such grace by comparison! :'(
"I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you."
John 14:18
This is where my dad's personal testimony continues to grow and thrive. He continues to find escape in the Word of God. He continues to draw comfort where he should be completely comfortless. His eyes are turned upward to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Faith is perhaps intangible and immeasurable but it *is* real. When there is literally no comfort left to be found in this life, faith sustains.
I wish this disease would away to the depths of hell. I wish that sickness, suffering, and death were not hallmarks of life. Even so, I hope even more strongly that I can continue to grow in my faith. The Bible promises us strength and grace sufficient for the day. I can only imagine that my sweet dad is getting more strength and grace every single day.
May I also find that Comforter holding open His arms when life itself leaves me comfortless. May I also push through the pain and continue to praise God. May His goodness continue to always be evident, even on the worst days.
My sisters and I have set up a GoFundMe campaign on behalf of my parents. Please consider sharing the link to it on social media.
My grief comes from a lot of places, as we walk through this painful journey. My dad is dying from ALS and yet, I can almost handle the fact that he will die.
Please do not misunderstand me, I do not want my precious dad to be removed from this earth. I wholly submit myself to whatever future the Lord brings on that front. I do not want my dad to be gone for one second of one day. It is just that there are worse things than death. Oh, but there are things which are much worse than death.
This is ALS in a nutshell.
I am grieving the upcoming loss of my beloved father. I am grieving over the pain that my mother is in. I am grieving privately over each sister, knowing full well that she is hurting. I am grieving for my babies and for my nephews and nieces, who have never been hit so hard or so closely with the loss of someone they love.
I am grieving for our husbands, who are losing a father-in-love who has adored each one like his very own son. I am grieving that they must feel somewhat helpless to comfort us and can only really walk with us through this. I am grieving for all of these things and grieving for myself, as well.
I can handle all of this grief. I can handle every single bit of it. It is survivable because everyone who is hurting may close hearts with everyone else. We are a tightly-night family who will become that much more tightly knit through this experience.
My personal deepest level of grief is for what my dad is going through. Where I can find consolation for every other kind of pain, I have found this grief inconsolable. There is literally nothing that will assuage my Dad's condition but deliverance. It will take the form of a miracle or death. I can handle me hurting. I can handle my family hurting. I can just barely handle my mother hurting. I cannot, *cannot* handle my dad hurting this way! :'( It is this which leaves me shrieking inside my head from the depths of my soul.
I have seen several diseases up close. This disease is by far the most relentless I have ever witnessed. It doesn't stop with immobilizing and emaciating its victim. It robs the very ability to communicate. How lonely my dad must be inside! How horrible not to be able to express a pain, a thought, a care... even something as basic as an itch! Death must feel like such grace by comparison! :'(
"I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you."
John 14:18
This is where my dad's personal testimony continues to grow and thrive. He continues to find escape in the Word of God. He continues to draw comfort where he should be completely comfortless. His eyes are turned upward to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Faith is perhaps intangible and immeasurable but it *is* real. When there is literally no comfort left to be found in this life, faith sustains.
I wish this disease would away to the depths of hell. I wish that sickness, suffering, and death were not hallmarks of life. Even so, I hope even more strongly that I can continue to grow in my faith. The Bible promises us strength and grace sufficient for the day. I can only imagine that my sweet dad is getting more strength and grace every single day.
May I also find that Comforter holding open His arms when life itself leaves me comfortless. May I also push through the pain and continue to praise God. May His goodness continue to always be evident, even on the worst days.
My sisters and I have set up a GoFundMe campaign on behalf of my parents. Please consider sharing the link to it on social media.
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