She’s hurting with a pain that most cannot comprehend or imagine. With each updated social media post my heart feels like I’m being taken back to those same moments I lived years ago when I lost my mother. She’s about to lose hers and with every post my stomach tangles in knots desperately wishing I could protect her from this suffering.
I’m praying for miracles, praying for comfort and for peace. Whispering words with fierce intentions to shield and protect her heart from the moments that are quickly approaching. With every new update it’s like being transported back to my experience all those years ago. I wish I could ease the pain. I wish I could disintegrate the fear and the anguish. I wish I could superglue her heart together to prevent the inevitable break that’s to come.
It’s tempting to hit “hide notifications” on her emotional updates. People love to hide from pain. People love to run from grief. People love to escape from the uncomfortable truths of what this life holds. I won’t hide from her pain no matter how much it resurfaces my own. Instead, I will lean in and I will show up. I will let her know she is not alone, even though it feels like her world is turning upside down and that gravity has failed to keep someone she loves here on earth.
I will lean in and show her I’m here because it’s proof that you can encounter great loss and indescribable pain and live through it. That you can breathe again after your breath has been temporarily taken. That you can carry on a legacy even when you can barely carry on.
She’s hurting, and though she’s only an acquaintance, the fact that I know the delicate conflictions of her prayers, the anxiety of her fears, and the debilitating loss that is about to find her, proves I must show up for her in any capacity that I can. I must pray for her. I must send persistent support, strength and comfort to the room in which she sits. Once you have been in the seat next to someone awaiting death your heart feels an empathy and tenderness for others as if it were your own.
She’s hurting. Do you see it? Can you feel it? Show up for her. Don’t ask if she needs you, she does. Don’t ask what she needs, she doesn’t know. Don’t just tell her you are praying, but actually pray. Don’t tell her you are here for her, show her. Show up for her, however she needs you, however you can.
She’s hurting with a pain most cannot imagine. Show up for her. She needs you. And she’ll keep needing you because soon she’ll live with a constant companionship of grief. She’ll learn that grief’s only comfort is love. Show up and love her, however you can, however she needs.
She’s hurting and she needs you.
Thank you! My mom was called home December 17th, 2021 @ 8:48am. I lost my EVERYTHING on this December morning! My life has no meaning or purpose now, or thats how I feel anyway. The lost, empty, hopeless, lonely & constant sadness without the ability to control these emotions is so much more then I have the strength to navigate thru. My mother would not want me to be so sad but even knowing this does not stop the sadness I feel everyday day since she was called home! Of course I don’t bother to talk to anyone about how I’m “really” feeling simply because nothing anyone can say or do can help me… also, even tho they may mean well or have good intentions what they tend to say makes me even more upset or even angry so… thank you for what you do. For some of us its all we can do to ease the indescribable pain if only for a moment while reading is a moment I’m thankful to have!
Thank you for all that you’re doing 🙏