I share this pain with you, fellow journeyers, because I know I’m not alone in my feelings and I don’t want you to think you are alone. This is an excerpt from my book.
I feel You urging me to write about feelings I’d rather keep hidden ~ memories from a most painful time that remain embedded in my heart like barbed arrows. I have pushed this conversation deep down into the darkest part of my soul ~ hoping to never have to deal with it again, but You are persistent ~ and You know my heart better than I do.
If I could roll back time and begin about a week before our son’s tragic and untimely death, I’d come to a few days of vacation he had off from work. He decided to come home and spend them with us. Of course we were elated. He usually spent a quick weekend once in a while, so it would be wonderful to have some extra time with him. He planned a golf game and other things family and friends enjoyed doing together, but something was off.
How he was really doing was always on my mind and I was eager to see him and check him out for myself. How could I help him? He was seeing a professional so that was encouraging, I thought. Did the golf game cheer him up? He seemed to have a good time, at least that is what I was told. But later my son and I had a private talk and he poured out words of heartache between sobs that wracked his body. I rubbed his back, hugged him and tried to console him.
Our private conversation naturally weighed heavily on my mind and heart after he returned home. There was nagging fear ~ deep in my mother-gut. I sat down to share the details with my husband. He listened to my worry about our son’s pain and my quandary as to whether or not we should push into his life to try to help him. After all, he was a grown man with rights to his own life and privacy. I expected to hear an echo to my fears, but we thought differently as parents often do. He did not seem worried and tried to put me at ease.
We had plans to see our son and celebrate his birthday the following weekend. Perhaps we could talk further with him then. Unbeknownst to us, he would be dead before the weekend. I’ve had to stop and cry my heart out as I write this. The deep ache of remorse is still there, wounding me and the “why” questions linger.
Why was I “pushed” to write about this, God? Was I to write it down so I could hurt all over again? There are no answers to my endless questions so what’s the point of recording it in black and white? How can there be any benefit to come from this agony?
My arms are wrapped around you as you type and I will hold you while you sob. My tears mingle with yours. I miss him too!
Remember My friend, Lazarus? I was moved to tears then too, even though I knew I was going to wake him up within minutes. Since My time frame is different from yours, I will tell you that it will seem only like a few minutes since your son’s death before I will be waking him up again! My dear daughter, your grief is temporary. This world is temporary. Death and the enemy are temporary. I am NOT temporary so hold on to Me!
You and your family loved your son so much and I know that. And your love is just the beginning of My great love for him. I took him to save him ~ there was no other way. He had suffered many years since childhood from taunts and threats by the enemy; things he neither understood nor knew how to put into words. It would not have been long and the enemy would have pushed him over the edge and far away from eternity so I stepped in.
I knew how much his death would crush all of you who love him, but try to understand that I had to let him take a rest to save him for eternity.
Dad and I talked often about his struggle. We knew the enemy was closing in for the kill . . . it was time. This is how Dad put it: “Son, we have delayed as long as we dare. We must move quickly before the enemy strikes a death blow. We can’t bear to lose him for all eternity, so let’s snatch him away from Satan now and save him forever. He’s Our boy!”
I know you are in agony, precious daughter. I am too. But remember that Satan does not have the last word here . . . I do! I AM the Author and the Finisher of your faith (Hebrews 12:2) and the Victor over sin and death (1 Corinthians 15:57).
So weep when you need to while your precious son sleeps and I will always be there to comfort you. Put your hope in eternity where I AM . .. and where your son will be . . . all brand new and ready to live forever when I return.
But your dead will live; their bodies will rise. You who swell in the dust, wake up and shout for joy. Your dew is like the dew of the morning; the earth will give birth to her dead. Isaiah 26: 19
from ~ Shattered by Suicide
I Am Not Alone, by Natalie Grant on YouTube