Aftermath

The aftermath is something we all face when loss occurs, pain, sorrow, destruction, suffering, and illness. It is during the aftermath that our reality sets in and we must "pick up the pieces" and move. Move any which way, forward, backward, sideways, just move, as we stagger through our personal trial.

I am still learning about the aftermath. Who isn't, really? After all, even though I can feel completely alone in my journey as a mother who has buried her child, I am not. Many more mothers join this inner circle each and every day. Every time we see a soldier dying, there is a mother grieving. Every day more and more young children and adults are diagnosed with a disease that takes our children from us far too soon, and there is another mother grieving. Every day a baby is born and that mother doesn't get to take him or her home. Fathers, too, of course, but I cannot write from the perspective of the father, only the mother. Sure, I can write from the perspective of a couple married for 29 years when their youngest has passed in their arms, the selection of the grave site memorial, the visits to the cemetery, the life in general, and the aftermath. Oh, indeed, every aspect of life holds an aftermath now. I surely knew it before, but not in this way. I had not been shattered in this manner. I honestly believe that had every bone in my body broken apart, and I had to recuperate, that the pain could not be worse. I may be wrong, or someone who does sit in a body cast may beg to differ, but it is how I feel. No matter, we each have our own aftermath to deal with and we find our way. No one sees it on our faces, there is no sign, no image, no outward message that states what is going on in the inside, or what we just dealt with, or what phone call we just received and with what kind of news. Life goes on, regardless, and the aftermath continues.

I could speak of grief aftermath for pages and pages. It is part of life. And how we respond to it, just as how we respond to the loss, makes all the difference in the world. As we see the news and watch the tsunamis and tornadoes, one hitting right in our own back yard, so to speak, it isn't the moment, or even the day, that I think of, it is the aftermath. It is in the days and weeks to come that I pray others will still be there, helping, offering, bringing items, and replenishing resources. It is down the road when the shock wears off and the folks impacted have a moment to sit and realize what has happened, that I hope someone will sit with them and let them talk or cry, and not make it about them! Just listen and BE with that person. The aftermath is when we need each other the most.

The destruction taking place all over the world is profound and impacting. I ask myself at times, why would I think I am immune from this? Why would I think other mothers must face the fact that they will not see their daughter or son again? Why would I believe that my "perfect" world would, and could, continue, without pain and strife? Why do we seem so shocked and surprised when others die, or houses are destroyed, life is mangled and taken by fellow man, why are we surprised when it hits so close to home? God shares with us that suffering is part of life, and that with His love and grace, we can sustain. I believe that to be true. I am sustaining. And I know full well that without the grace of God I would not be standing. I have begged, pleaded, screamed, cried and been brought to my knees in ways I never thought possible. Is that what He wants from me? To be totally dependent on Him? Again, I believe that yes, He does, for without Him there is no way to move and find our way through the aftermath of loss.

Loss takes on new meaning every day. From my vantage point, I believe that as long as there is life, we can find our way. Others, who have lost every shred of paper or belonging, may not necessarily agree with me. Yet, over and over again, so many people impacted by the recent tornadoes, who have to rebuild from the ground up, have been interviewed and I hear them thank God for life. That is how I do it, too. I thank God for life. Do I wish I could turn the clock back and have this all be a very bad dream? Of course. Do I ponder, still, in my own shock and aftermath, how this became my life? Of course. But I pick up, and no, I don't know the same loss as others, but this is mine. I have my house. I do not have my youngest daughter to share it with. I have my family, a family still learning how to adjust to being a family of three, and not four. I have this day,I have my life, and I am learning how to maneuver it all with a hole in my soul, a hollowness that cannot be filled, no matter how hard I try. Still, I am grateful and appreciative and I no longer have time for foolishness. Real life things change a person. Ask a tornado victim if they are too worried about the things people complain about! Ask a mother who will visit her child's grave this week if she is concerned about the complaining and griping they do about workplaces and neighbors! I know, I know, it's important to them at the time, and they are not in the aftermath. Not yet.

The aftermath is when we need to be there for others. Long after the funerals, the pieces and debris of our lives have been picked up, and long after it seems as though life has returned to "normal" for others. When reality sets in and life must be lived, the aftermath is what we live through. Helping one another through the aftermath of their life is one way we can serve, and in the process, we cannot help but heal ourselves.