Because I Knew You

Forty-one years ago, I had a baby boy and my life totally changed. Two weeks ago, he died unexpectedly and my life totally changed. Forty-one years of memories continuously play through my mind each moment of everyday trying to assuage the grief by offering solace and comfort to no avail. At this moment the empty hole cannot be filled. I know I am not alone, family and friends have been a comfort and will continue to be always with my husband and me as we remake our future without our son. I remembered a writing I posted several years ago, written to a friend with a loss in his life. As I reread the post today, I felt it worth repeating to myself and to add my thoughts about my son.

Sometimes, in our finite minds, we realize there is no explanation. Bad things happen but when they happen to us or to those we love — we seek, we question and we search for answers that are not there. Our faith tells us that although we may not understand now, God has a plan and one day it will be revealed. Platitudes such as this are not comforting to us because senseless things do not nourish our faith. Often the opposite is true. Is it possible to come to terms with tragedy and sorrow and find strength to continue believing that an all-loving omnipotent being cares for us and for our sufferings? And we struggle with that bit of doubt in our faith, worrying that if we feel that doubt, it may take root and grow in our very being.

But we are changed. We must decide what that change will be, for the better or otherwise. Both options are open. We know bad things happen to good people and many of those people are able to use adversity and grow to become shining examples of heroic virtue. They may even take on a persona of saintly qualities that lead others to become better persons. Their strength attests to their undying faith. Others tend to let the adversity fester until it becomes a malignancy, spouting evil and spreading hatred in life. Their life becomes an open wound so everyone will see their anger and despair. The two choices are there.

Conventional wisdom tells us that time will soothe the pain and reveal the purpose of our suffering but time is the one thing with which we do not want to deal. Family and friends will help with the pain by sharing it, but not by taking it away completely. Prayer will help, not only when used as a vehicle for anger, but also for the solace that comes with putting feelings into words. Wounds can heal, and when they do, we are changed in the process, but the scars remain. We did not cause the bad thing to happen; that choice was not up to us. What we do with the change in our lives resulting from any sorrow can make us whole again. Because with each sorrow and tragedy, we soon realize that we are not alone, our God hears our voice.

As I replay those precious forty-one years with my son, I remember a happy free-spirited boy who could melt my heart with a smile, lift me up with a big hug, and annoy me endlessly by acting like me. We played together, shared cooking meals together, listened to music together and watched Disney movies together, except for one. We could not make it through Dumbo because the bond between the mother elephant and baby Dumbo hit us both like a ton of bricks. And that’s when we cried together. I believe we are crying together now. 

As I continue on with my life I would say to my son the lines from Wicked, a Broadway musical:

I don’t know if I’ve been changed for the better,

but because I knew you, I have been changed for good.

Elphaba