Oh, friends. I’ve wanted to tell you, but there are no words. No words big or right or clear enough, no clue in my hurting, spinning mind of where to begin. I have hovered over this keyboard for two months feeling almost ready and then backing away. But I need you now. We need you now. So I’ll try to string some words together enough to ask. Could you pray for us?
Pray for us. Pray for us. And we are so weary I can’t tell you even what to pray for. But beg. Please. Pray. Cry out. Because I can’t find the words to talk to God aside from a wounded HELP. HELP ME. HELP US. HELP US. Could you have the words for us, who cannot find our own?
Our sweet, gentle dad was brutally killed on July 10th. His was a savage death, not fit for an animal, not fit for a shining, hard-working, fiercely loving man. We did not get to hold his hand. We did not get to save him. We did not get to save him. And then the world spins and you fear it is breaking. That this is the end. But it is only just beginning.
We have been thrust into a world of police stations and funerals, casket shopping and legal talk. We finally held his cold hand and understood that that this was the loss of the only dad. We’ve wept the hardest tears over his darling self before watching the dirt cover him shovel by shovel by shovel-full. And then the news that our brother has been charged with First Degree Murder. We stood at the start of a dark maze and realized it would be a long, blind walk.
Weeks have passed. Some days I’d see a little sliver of light creeping in. Those days I could take a few steps, progress, progress, navigating the twists and turns slowly but just enough. But most days we’ve found no light, just fear that we are very lost here and no one can find us. I’ve grabbed onto comfort anywhere I can find it, but the best I could hope for was to look at my three sisters and my mom and know that at least they were walking this long road with me.
And then, on September 10th, the world finally does it. It breaks. It’s gone completely. Frantic calls from my sisters and we learn our precious mother is dead. Just like that, she is gone. Her bright smile. Her witty book talk. Her arms just the right size for 6 grandbabies big and small. Her heart bigger than the sky and deeper than the ocean. Her pointy nose that scrunches when she laughs. Her sitting in a living room with her sisters, a brother, her mom: long legs and matching faces in a row. Her smell. Her smell. Our only guide in the new normal since July. She is so much. She is gone. She is gone.
60 little days. That’s all it takes for the world to disappear. I am sitting here emptied and scraped out. I am flat. I am scared. I am stunned to a place beyond any normal pain. I am sad so wholly that it is the biggest part of who am I now. I am not myself when those who made me aren’t here to remind me who I am. And I am looking at my three sisters. Us four girls. I am knocked back down again realizing inside their plain old skin and eyes and moving parts they are emptied out just like me. Oh, I am so sad for them.
So I cannot tell you what to pray for. Because we’ve begged for help. We’ve cried out from this grief and there aren’t any words left. Can you say the words for us because we are weak? Can you pray and beg and plead for mercy because we can barely lift our heads to say it?