As I opened my eyes, I tried to grapple with my surroundings. My eyes were swollen from crying throughout the night. But this morning I wasn’t alone, no this morning my husband was next to me in a small twin bed we shared at the Ronald McDonald House. Although our room had two twin beds, as still practically newlyweds we chose to cram in the small twin bed together on the weekends he would stay. Unlike all the other Sunday mornings, where we would get ready to head over to see our son, this day had both a sense of urgency and a sense of dread. This was going to be the very last day we would spend with our son and there was absolutely no way to prepare your heart for the reality of letting go. 

This fogged memory relapse would occur each morning for the next year. Waking up to familiar surroundings and with the same sigh of peace came the rush of regret. He was gone, forever.

For a split second I had forgot, all that was lost.

But with time, mornings became easier to get out of bed and Alex wasn’t always the first thing I thought of. With time, happiness returned and a new sense of purpose surrounded his life and passing. 

This past week marked fifteen years of losing my son and it was difficult to say the least. I spent the day ignoring phone calls from friends, a throbbing headache right behind my eyes, crying on/off, and honestly was just in a fowl mood. I was angry for all the things I had lost, all the things that would never be, and plagued with the nonstop “why?”

It wasn’t until I met with my women’s eGroup, I was reminded of the importance of being vulnerable, open, and willing to share. When I was keeping it all pent up inside, it was a growing disease of darkness. This disease was telling me I was all alone, that no one understood me, and that I should be “over it.” It wanted to keep me overcome, overwhelmed, and defeated. 

In my book HOPE (Amidst the Stories I Told Myself): How to Find Hope in Love and Loss, I write about my depression after losing Alex and how it wasn’t until I was willing to ask for help did I get pulled out. This past week I was in the same dark place and I was reminded of Luke 11 this morning:

5 And he said to them, “Which of you who has a friend will go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves, 6 for a friend of mine has arrived on a journey, and I have nothing to set before him’; 7 and he will answer from within, ‘Do not bother me; the door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed. I cannot get up and give you anything’? 8 I tell you, though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, yet because of his impudence he will rise and give him whatever he needs. 9 And I tell you, ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. 10 For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. 11 What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent; 12 or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? 13 If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”

Are you like me, unwilling to ask for help and instead sulking in misery? 

Once we take the step to ask, the peace you are seeking will be given to you. Does this mean I have answers to all my “why’s,” of course not.  This does mean, however, that I am able to face a new day with a new HOPE. 

You see without my eGroup I would have shoved it down. Maybe it would have only lasted the day and I could pretend until I felt better. Without my eGroup, that very day I would have pretended I could do this all alone. The reality is, I can not. I need Jesus and I need people. 

If you are struggling today with grief, reach out to Christ and reach out to a friend. I am always here for anyone who wants to talk. You are not alone.