The hard stuff

This post is almost two years in the making. This past weekend I learned that a couple I knew at Union were killed in a car accident leaving behind a 2.5 year old daughter. I also learned that another friend from high school split up with his wife. I needed to write this, as a tribute, and also to clear my head. Tragedy strikes when we least expect it. This is for Dan and Aimee, Randy, Eric, Katherine, Debbie, Ryann, and Katie. Lord Jesus, Come Soon.

I had my Holden Caulfield moment, that rupture and shattering of naivete, almost two years ago. Up to that point I had looked on our generation as different than our parents, the invincible generation that would make better decisions, learn from our parents' mistakes, and be happier for it. We were so young, so healthy, we knew so much more about taking care of the environment and ourselves! We would all die in our eighties or nineties, still happily married and surrounded by children, grandchildren, great grandchildren!

And then disaster(s) struck. The first crack in the fragile shell of my ignorance came when my best friend from high school and his wife split up. I don't know the circumstances or exactly when it happened, but one day I saw a "people you may know" on my Facebook page. It was his wife, but her maiden name. I checked out my friend's page and his relationship status had changed to "divorced." I was crushed. This was not supposed to happen to him, to anyone close to me. We were all supposed to live "happily ever after." I walked around in a daze for a week or two.

That was, until another of my friends from high school sent me a text message one morning, asking what had happened to another of our friends. Immediately I signed on to Facebook and followed a trail of funeral announcements, condolences, and shared memories. His wife had passed away. Again, I was crushed. I shed angry tears for him and their 18-month-old son. How could God let this happen? What about happily ever after for their little family?

Then, suddenly, we received word that my cousin had lost her battle with cancer. We had known for some time that she had been receiving treatment, but most of us had thought she was in remission, so this was a total shock. She left behind two beautiful girls and her talented husband. My Grandma had now attended two funerals that should never have happened, one for her daughter, and now her daughter's daughter. No parent should have to bury their child, and no grandparent should have to bury their grandchild.

And then, one early Tuesday morning in May, the last week of school, I signed on to Facebook once more to see a funeral announcement. This time it was from my college friend. In utter confusion I searched her page ... It was her daughter, her adorable, active, smiling-all-the-time, 19-month-old daughter, who I had never met but had watched grow up through pictures and videos since my friend had gotten pregnant. I screamed, right there in my office at work. I wept bitter tears for half an hour, until my students came in and I had to pull myself together. I messaged her cousin to ask what had happened. He said he didn't know, that no one really knew yet. I cried for days, every time I thought about my sweet friend and her husband, now childless. My stomach sank when I read the story of how it happened. A genetic fluke that no one saw coming. Why, God?

Then, the very next day another friend from high school posted a cute picture of her daughter, still just a baby, with the caption, "She doesn't look like a leukemia patient, does she?" Another sucker punch to the gut.

Things were falling apart all around me, and I couldn't do a thing. I couldn't hug my friends, cry with them, help them with housework, cook for them. They were scattered from Washington to Kentucky, and I was stuck in stupid, stinky California. I sent notes of encouragement but words seemed so empty. I sent cards and money, but those don't bring people back.

In all of this, I just kept thinking "What if that had been us? What would I do, how could I go on?" There are no answers.

There's just no way for us to make everything okay again. The hurt heals, but it leaves an ugly, permanent scar, a constant reminder of what might have been.

I'm not going to go in to "Where is God in all this pain?" because many people have said it better than I ever could. I do believe that God brings good out of situations that the devil caused. And I do believe that Jesus is coming soon to raise the dead and reunite broken families. What other hope could there be?

Life has never quite been the same since that Spring. I've thought about my friend who lost her daughter every single day. I've been reminded of the fragility of life, of relationships, of health. I've feared losing my own child, losing my husband, losing my family. But seeing the courage and faith of my friends has helped me see that life goes on, that there is always a ray of hope, that God provides for us even when we think He's taken everything away from us.

Since that horrible spring, my best friend is in a great relationship, my widowed friend married an amazing girl, my cousin's husband is playing professionally for a high-profile orchestra, my friend and her husband had a little boy not too long ago, and the sweet little girl is still receiving treatments for her leukemia. Their paths took some awful twists and turns, and the wheels will always squeak a little from the strain, but the hope of what's ahead keeps them going. And, if tragedy should strike here, I know God will bring us through whatever it is. Because I know that at the end of the road, I will see Jesus, and He will wipe away all tears from our eyes, there will be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, no more pain, for the former things will all pass away. And then, sweetest of all promises, He will declare IT IS DONE. And then, what a reunion!