So yesterday I had a moment. That moment was defined by getting to church and then as worship began, starting to sing, and then starting to cry. And then even though I was feeling foolish I wasn’t able to stop. A moment. And I knew exactly why I was crying, it just hit me like a tidal wave that I missed my Ava. Right there and then while I was standing in church, I just missed her horribly and it made me so sad.
Sometimes these waves of grief just hit out of no where, but this wave actually started on Saturday when I was out driving. Something about the weather reminded me of being in Toronto in December three years ago and spending every day sitting at the foot of Ava’s bed in critical care. And then yesterday on the way to church I mentioned that Ava’s birthday was coming and I asked jokingly what we were getting her for her birthday. Jason said we were getting her a Christmas tree and that is exactly what we are getting her. Last year we ended up getting our tree on her birthday and so we decided that we were going to drive out to the country and get a Christmas tree from the nice tree farm that is just down the road from her graveyard every year on her birthday. And don’t worry – it’s not morbid at all – just happy and festive and it kinda feels like we are including her.
So the wave was growing without me even realizing it, and then the moment hit. And the funny thing about my grief is that I’m never truly sad that Ava died. Considering how sick that poor baby was, she is exactly where she is supposed to be – safe and snug in heaven and I can’t argue with that. When I cry, I cry for the baby I didn’t get to keep down here. I cry for a baby that my heart wishes was born healthy, with her little reddish curls and adorable smile. That would have turned our lives and our house upside down. That would have kept the kids busy chasing her around and would have been a fount of cuddles and kisses. She would have added to our family so much. On December 4th she would have turned three and I’ve missed it all. That’s why I cry. I guess it’s purely selfish, but it’s such an aching loss… I suppose like all loss is. Isn’t it strange that most of our hurt in life involves loss? But then grief is the emotion that God gave us that helps us process and release these things we’ve lost. But I think that my well of loss is so deep I might have to grieve for the rest of my life, but that’s OK… even though I’m a puffy red crier, not a pleasant sight at all.
But as I stumbled out of the service yesterday to go and wipe my eyes and calm my heart, the first person I saw was a friend who gave me a big hug and listened, I was so grateful. And after church I made a beeline for a lovely woman in our congregation who herself has experienced so much loss and we talked and she prayed for me. And that’s when I think of this verse in 2 Corinthians…
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too. 2 Corinthians 1:3-5
(Here are mine and Jason’s four blessed distractions which I am so grateful for….)
God is the God of all comfort and He is always there to comfort us in our affliction and then in turn we can comfort others. And like I was comforted yesterday I hope that I can comfort others when I say that I’m OK. I have lost a child, but am living testament that by God’s amazing grace and by his comfort, day after day my heart is healing. I just still have my moments.