WRITHING…wrestling…worship
writhe (verb)
to twist from or as if from pain or struggling
to suffer keenly
Writhing, wrestling and worship are three words that have been prominent in my grief journey. Some days, I only have to deal with one W. Other days, I finally make my way through the maze of one W, just to find myself faced with the maze of another. Then, there are days I feel like I’m on a ride at the fair. You know the rides where what you’re sitting in is spinning one way, but the ride itself is spinning another? Those days, the three Ws have me spinning so many different ways, I’m not sure I’ll ever stop.
I’ve experienced pain before. We’ve had hard in our lives, marriage and our parenting journey, but nothing has compared to the pain of the past 21 months. Actually, when it comes to child loss, I would say the word pain does not come close to naming what bereaved parents feel. I think writhing is a much more accurate description. When I think of writhing, I think of immense pain to which there is no relief. That is child loss. Immense pain, that is, at times, less intense, but will never be fully gone this side of heaven.
Today I am writhing because the next three months we are facing a gauntlet. There aren’t just two hard dates ahead, there are multiple dates that will bring joy, sorrow, or most likely a mixture of both. They all have the possibility of being a trigger. Starting with Halloween…my birthday…Thanksgiving…the anniversary of Paxton’s accident…Christmas…Jenna’s birthday…our wedding anniversary…Paxton’s heaven day…Chad’s birthday…and the date of Paxton’s memorial service. I wish I could go to sleep Wednesday and wake up February 3, 2025.
Another bereaved parent, who has become a precious friend, used a scene from The Avengers to describe the life of a bereaved parent. The Avengers are in New York and need Bruce Banner to become The Hulk. Captain America tells Bruce it might be a good time to get angry. Bruce replies “that’s my secret Captain…I’m always angry”. I’m not always angry (although I do get angry…but that’s for another post), but I am always writhing. There are times it’s not visible, but it’s always there, under the surface. I twist and turn to try and find permanent relief from the pain of Paxton’s death, but it’s always there and always will be.
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are those tears
or raindrops on my cheeks?
it seems the sky is also crying
a silent scream
comes from within me
my body bent in half with grief
from pain there is no relief
sorrow brings me to my knees
Jesus!
the only word I can speak
my soul is writhing
