My friend lost her 20 year old son last spring. Her pain wears on her like a fevered headache that complicates the most basic of daily living. There is no medicine that will cure this.
Every parent says that it is not right for a child to die before the parent. As a society we seem to be okay with death when it happens after a long fought struggle or a life well lived. We don't want to see people in pain and sometimes death is a release. But, losing a child is a different matter.
We console ourselves with religion, spirituality, or hope that all the understandings we have about life and death somehow end up being true. We find solace in words that are written in Hallmark cards. We find kinship in those who can identify with the hurt---they have their stories too.
Two days ago, there was yet another accident outside of our small town. A young man, age 23, lost his life. We are asked to pray and to keep the family in our thoughts.
I do not know how to describe what happens when news like this hits those not directly involved. The whole community is in pain. The ripple effects are endless. Every mother and father runs through the scenario---what if this happened to me? Night time prayers become lengthier. Young drivers are constantly reminded by adults the need for driving safely. There is nothing anyone can do. Helplessness takes over.
It is almost like when my grandmother said that you have a cold in your back when I would sleep with my window open in the late fall when daytime temperatures were warm and night-time temperatures hovered just about freezing. You need to close your window at night--the cold gets into your bones. A cold in your back doesn't stop you from doing your daily activities; it is almost like a pinched nerve. But, it hurts. It is constant and deep and changes your focus on daily life. You suffer through each day just hoping it is going to get better. Just hoping you do not have another one. Just hoping you never experience it again.
The loss of these young adult men is a type of Soul Stop. It is like the soul had too much. The soul jolts back but it is different. The windows of life were left open too long and now the soul has a cold in it. It hurts, its focus changes, and it is constant. My soul stopped and re-started but it hurts and it is constant. But, I have no right to complain of my hurt because mine is minor compared to those directly involved.
Small communities can be both blessing and curse---ask any adult raising their children in a small town and ask any teenager trying to find a way to get out. What I know for sure is that the small town I live in has had their soul stopped too many times. We are all in need of a bit of therapy. Perhaps that is being selfish? As if other small towns and big cities do not go through the same thing.
My friend who lost her son last spring said something to me yesterday...... She told me that the sun still rises and sets. She cannot stop working, raising her other children, buying groceries, taking the dog for a walk, paying her bills, getting ready for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and so on. Pain is like that. It hides behind the sun in the morning and the the sunset at night. It conceals itself in the clothes she wears, the car she drives, the work she does.
If someone had a broken arm in a cast, the hurt shows. If someone is cut, the bleeding is covered with bandages. The soul stopping? It just downright hurts.
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