"Grief Is Love With Nowhere To Go"
This is my story of tragedy and beauty, a story of life and
death, and a story of mourning and dancing. Not too long ago, I spent 5 months in
the hospital with my best friend, and my brother. I witnessed the person I
loved more than myself suffer beyond what anyone should endure. The memories still
unexpectedly visit me like a nasty
hurricane threatening to take me down. After 5 months of suffering, Colton passed
away while I lay in the hospital bed alongside his body as close as I could
manage.
The next year would be a time of screaming at God and
doubting everything I knew to be true. I would almost lose my marriage, my
faith, and all the beauty ahead of me in this life.
That next year was a time of mourning. I knew I had two
choices; I could run from grief and like a criminal, it would eventually sneak
up on me and beat me to the ground. Or I could begin the long frightening
journey of walking toward the grief with my knees shaking and head high. I was
not sure if grief was stronger than me, but I did know if I beat it before it beat me, I would be
free to live the life my brother wanted for me.
I started by walking a
long trail by my house every day, and I got a puppy. I walked everyday whether
it was snowing or sunny. Just like grief, the weather was unpredictable but just
like Hope, my puppy was always wagging her tail a few steps ahead of me. My job
was to be consistent and honest. I would
be faithful to walk, and willing to express the storm within me. Some days this
meant talking out loud to my brother, other days it meant moving my body in
the silence of the forest because words could not suffice. During this time of
mourning there were only three invited ... Myself, God, and Colton.
Even though Grief is a crippling and lonely journey; alone is the only way one is allowed
within the gates to face the beast.
Almost a year later, I stood at the top of the hill where I
journeyed everyday and began to talk to Colton when I heard a stern, “enough is enough.” These words quieted
my heart and I knew I had to keep listening. I wondered if this moment may be
the beginning of the end of this grief journey. I wondered if I had finally worn
down the beast.
“You have a full and wonderful life ahead of you with so
much to accomplish. It’s time to move on Stina,” Colton whispered
softly through the Alder trees.
In my heart I could see a careful and loving smile stretch
across my brother’s face as he ended by saying, “You will see me when you are
done with this life but please go
live yours.”
I had an overwhelming
sense that Colton was ready to move on too. It was time to allow us both be
free and trust that it was not the end but merely a pause until we meet again. I did not know it but I desperately needed his
permission to say goodbye.
I needed my brother’s blessing to live my life even though
he could not longer live his.
The same month that I finally let go of Colton with my white
knuckled grip…the loss of Colton was unexpectedly redeemed.
That same month, I conceived my first child.
As I sit here and write, this baby is dancing and kicking, reassuring
me every day that there is new life growing within me. We spent almost four years praying for a child, gone
to multiple doctor appointments, and I finally accepted that I would never
be a mom. The news that I would be a mother filled my heart with a joy that was
unexplainable. I was given a new life after losing my brother to death. The words
my brother spoke to me on the day that marked the beginning of the end are now
taking physical form right before my eyes. As this belly grows, the joy within
my heart explodes and overflows into my marriage, my faith, and the beautiful
future I have.
This new growing life
healed the pain of loss, and renewed my faith that God is good. This new baby boy whom we will name Colton has turned my
mourning into dancing.
Someone once said, “Grief is Love with nowhere to go.” I
believe Colton gave me permission to find a new home for my love to grow.
