Finding Joy in Grief

"Grief is a reminder of the depth of our love. Without love, there is no grief. So when we feel our grief, uncomfortable and aching as it may be, it is actually a reminder of the beauty of that love, now lost." (Gordon Wheeler)

Each year on the anniversary of Mario's death, and the day following it which happens to be his birthday, out of self-preservation perhaps, my calendar has been blocked off. Doing so allows for much needed flexibility in the day to make room for the raw emotions that flow. This year is no exception.

There is a excerpt from The Book of Joy that I love and speaks to this: "To linger in the longing, the loss, the yearning is a way of feeling the rich and embroidered texture of life, the torn cloth of our world that is endlessly being ripped and rewoven."

It seems nearly impossible that today marks five years since Mario was stripped from our lives. In some ways it feels much longer but in other ways, it has gone too quickly. As I look back over the last five years, there have been a few things that stand out about the grieving process:

1. The vapors of his life still exist: As many of you have reached out with a note of encouragement, sharing a memory of Mario, or simply offered prayers for our family, we have been touched. In doing this, we are comforted that he is not forgotten and that you also think about him and remember him. 
2. Parental duties don't stop: I can't adequately explain this but as Mario's mother, I feel a sense of responsibility (sometimes this equates to desperation) to ensure he is not forgotten. It feels somewhat as though in doing so I am still protecting him. Still looking out for him in a way. Still caring for him and taking care of him. 
3. Sharing about him is just that, about him: sometimes when I come across a memory, a picture, something from the past, it gets shared in a variety of ways. When that happens, it is not a cry for attention or for sympathy as some may think. My son existed and for those of you who knew him personally, you know that he lived a "loud" life. He was vibrant, gregarious, chatty, funny, compassionate and was that "in your face" (in a good way) kind of guy. Before Mario's death there was a pretty constant flow of sharing funny stories, precious moments, etc. and that doesn't just stop because his heart stopped beating. 
4. Life (and death) are full of life lessons: as I continue to reflect on Mario's life and death, they serve as reminders to me that life is short; there truly isn't much in life to stress about ("Ain't Stressin" was Mario's final tweet); that relationships matter; to always say goodbye; to live life in a way that is purposeful and driven even when under pressure to do something different. 
5. Be grateful: we truly have so much to be thankful for in life. We also have so much to be thankful for in death. Verbalizing the things that we are thankful for is a healthy way to keep a good balance in life and helps avoid the mental trap of focusing on the negative. Is dealing with a death, especially a death of a child difficult? You bet. But when I begin to think about all the things there are to be thankful for (my children, the privilege of being a mom, the memories that make me literally laugh out loud still today.......the list is long), I am reminded of how much there is to be grateful for and it is uplifting. 

Each person's grieving process is different. It looks different. It feels different. It does not come in a box with a pretty little bow. It is messy. It has no timetable. It has no end. To expect a person to "just get over it" is unrealistic. In case you aren't aware, time does not heal all wounds. However, the grieving process is just that - a process. And through the process, there is joy to be found. Joy in the memories, joy in the love, joy in the life once lived, joy in your life lived today. 

May you find it too. 

"Grief is a reminder of the depth of our love. Without love, there is no grief. So when we feel our grief, uncomfortable and aching as it may be, it is actually a reminder of the beauty of that love, now lost." (Gordon Wheeler) 

"Mom, would you sacrifice me if God asked you to?" ~ Mario

That is the question that Mario asked the night before his death. To be frank, I was appalled and didn't want to answer.

We had spent most of the evening at home, just the two of us, while everyone else was out for one reason or another. The majority of our time together was in the kitchen while I was cooking and Mario was bouncing around me talking non-stop, making me pose to take the typical selfies together to send to his friends, and telling me about who was doing what, who said what, and how things were going in his life. Always a jokester, this night was no exception. We were laughing and carrying on together like normal. Business as usual, perhaps.

With my back to him at the stove, the question was dropped. I have been known to call Mario my "shock and awe kid". Usually for dropping what would be considered a "forbidden question", a radical statement, or making some crazy movement, all in the name of shocking someone. He loved those types of reactions. Because he did that so often, there wasn't much that really truly shocked me anymore from him. I was able to recognize what he was doing and knew that it was really just his way of trying to get a reaction from me...or others. But in this one moment, the question stopped me in my tracks.

"Mom, if God asked you to sacrifice me for Him, would you do it?" I noted a hint of seriousness in his tone. The mere thought of what he was asking was absolutely unfathomable and my reaction matched that feeling, "Mario! That is terrible! Don't ask that!"

But he pressed on, "Seriously Mom, if God asked you to kill me, would you do it?" I tried to be insistent and as dismissive as possible in my response, "Mario! I'm not kidding. That is an awful thing to ask me. Stop."

Diving into the waters of an unthinkable question once again, Mario took it a step farther, "Mom, this is Biblical. This happened! God has asked someone to kill their son for Him before. It's in the Bible! What would you do if God asked you to do that? Would you sacrifice me?"

Mario was referring to a story in the Bible, Genesis 22:1 - 19, where God tests Abraham and asks him to sacrifice his only son, Isaac, as a burnt offering to the Lord. Just as Abraham is about to kill his only son for God, he is stopped by the angel of the Lord who tells him that since he has shown his fear of the Lord, he is not to harm his son and does not have to kill him. 

Have you ever seen a mom go from being horrified to suddenly as sanctified as she can get? (I am laughing at the irony of that last statement as I write it.) I realized this question was not going to go away easy but I also knew that with a real sense of desperation that I did not want to answer it. Shoving the emotions to the side I tried my best to use that moment as a teaching moment. As calmly as I could muster, I explained to Mario that the story he was referring to was in the Old Testament of the Bible and that we are released from the necessity of offering sacrifices like that in the New Testament once Jesus died for us, for our sins.

To my great relief, that seemed to quell the waters of such a turbulent question. But why was I so effected by that question? Why didn't I want to answer? The answer is simple. Because I couldn't. I was completely torn between knowing what my answer SHOULD have been and knowing what my answer was likely to be...and it wasn't what it should have been.

As a Christian I know that God sent His Son to earth to be like us, to experience life like us, but to die not like us, but FOR us. I consider myself a Christ follower and I have a relationship with Jesus. Here, in the face of a question that essentially challenged the level of my loyalty, purity and genuine love for Christ, I was choking. I was choking because my 5' 8" tall, 156 pound son that was standing in front of me was asking if I was willing to give him up in the name of my relationship with Christ.

In all honesty, if that were a test for me, I likely would have failed. And I am deeply convicted by the thought of that certain failure. As a person who feels rooted and secure in my faith, I am also deeply disturbed with the reality of that failure. Had I been forced to answer that question, my answer would have been "no." But isn't that the level of trust and love that I have for my God? That I would lay my own son's life down if asked to? The word "excruciating" comes to mind. Now if you ask me if I would give up my own life for God, my answer would be a hands-down, with no hesitation, yes! But my own son? Uhhh....

So here is the thing to all of this; the reality is that the very thing Mario was asking me if I would do - sacrifice my son for God - God already did that.

Did you catch what I just said?

Slow down and really take this point in.

God...you know, the God of the universe...the God who chose you to be here right now in this moment...sacrificed His only son for you and me. (I'm not trying to preach here...I'm just making the connection.) He did exactly what Mario was asking if I would do - except He, with the deepest, most compassionate amount of love, went through with it. He freely GAVE His only Son for you and for me.

And it is through that sacrifice, and Mario's belief in that same sacrifice, that Mario is now in Heaven. So the very thing that Mario asked if I would be able to do - sacrifice him if God asked me to - is the very thing that saved him and allowed him in the gates of Heaven because God did it for us.

Epic.

Lord, I am thankful that I live in a time that I do not have to make the choice of sacrificing my own son. I see now that I often take my own level of faith and belief system for granted. That is not what I want for me, but especially not what I want for You from me. Increase my faith in You and allow me to hear Your voice clearly. Thank You so much for choosing me to be Mario's mom. My life has been beyond blessed by my children. Give Mario a kiss and a big hug from me.......

With New Eyes I see

This morning I realized that it is with Mario's death that I have been given new eyes to read scripture with a new and very different perspective. I am finding that there is a longing to understand scripture in a much different way. As I read through my devotions, the lessons seem to resonate at a deeper level and are applied to my life with more meaning. It has become personal.

I'm finding that I want to understand what Mario may be experiencing right now in Heaven, what he experienced in his death as he entered Heaven, how God sees each of us and how he saw Mario during his 17 years of life here on earth. It has been humbling to learn at a much more real and personal way that God provides for us by means that we often don't even recognize. A recent discovery that struck my core: Jesus intercedes on our behalf and the Holy Spirit does the same.

((Side note: Who better to pray for us than Jesus and the Holy Spirit. I could stop right there and just let that simmer...and I am in awe of it...Jesus, the one that was mocked, savagely beaten and hung on a cross to die for me and you - he intercedes on my behalf to the God of the universe - the same God that made you and me. Seriously, that is huge...and it is humbling!))

Since Mario's death, the actual inner workings of the Spiritual realm have become clearer and more prominent in the things read and heard. This is becoming so much so that it motivates an earlier than usual rise in the morning, a thirst for greater understanding of all things spiritual, and is producing in me a very different perspective around what is truly important in life.

I am by no means perfect in these things but rather have become more sensitive to the promptings and lessons of the Spirit...something I don't think would have happened had it not been for Mario's death. As such, I stand firm in the belief that Mario's death was not in vain.

It can easily be said that in Mario's death, he not only still lives, but he is quite possibly more alive than ever before.

God is brilliant.

"The Spirit of God, who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you. And just as God raised Christ Jesus from the dead, He will give life to your mortal bodies by this same Spirit living within you." Romans 8:11

"Because Jesus lives forever, His priesthood lasts forever. Therefore He is able, once and forever, to save those who come to God through Him. He lives forever to intercede with God on their behalf." Hebrews 7:24-25

"And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God's love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow - not even the powers of hell can separate us from God's love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below - indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:38-39

Grieving is Twisted (Part II)

In my mind it is expected that as time goes on, things would be better. The pain of grieving would decrease. After all, isn't there a saying that time heals all wounds? Oh what a fool I was to think that.

Many of you have expressed how strong I have been through all of this. With desperation I want you to know that the strength you see is not me. Never would I want someone to see my life and my grieving process and think that there is something wrong with them for not grieving in the same way. You need to know that everyone grieves differently, at different paces even.

What you need to know is that I still cry...daily...without fail. Even in the firm belief that Mario is in Heaven, is safe, is happy, and is way better off than I can imagine - I miss him. In the midst of an emotional moment this week I tweeted exactly what I felt as if it were a new discovery for me: "It is not in his death that I am sad. It's the inability to touch him, hold him, talk to him & laugh w/ him that is torturous." Truth.

And there it is. My new reality. A new reality that is hard to grasp, hard to make sense of. Sometimes reality hits at the strangest times. And sometimes as I stare reality in its face, it oddly feels like it is not reality at all. Things are still surreal.

Over the past six weeks I have tried to set the table for 5, instead of 4. I have had confusion when signing a birthday card to someone from our family and getting stuck when it would have been the place to write Mario's name - I simply didn't know what to do. I have tried to make arrangements for him to get a ride home as that would normally be the case in the scenario at the time. His supper was mentally planned multiple times because what we were having wouldn't be something he would want. My parents, Greg and I sat in silence, head bowed, holding hands, all waiting for Mario to say the prayer before supper like he always did - before realizing someone else was going to have to say it. I've headed to his bedroom to say hello to him when I got home from work, to say goodnight before going to bed, and to wake him up in the morning. I have put some of his favorite "standard" grocery items in the cart before realizing it - and put it back because no one else will eat it. The moments like these seem never-ending.

How twisted is the grieving process? Very.

• I feel as though I somehow need to be strong for everyone else. 
• I feel weak for crying...and even more so when the tears begin to flow without my permission or control.
• I don't want to talk about Mario's death because I don't want people to get tired of hearing about it and get irritated with me talking about it. But I think about it non-stop. 
• I want to hang pictures up of him that we received already framed...but don't want people to think I'm setting up some sort of a shrine or something. 
• I want to share stories about Mario often - and always have done that - but now find myself hesitating because again, I don't want people to think I'm completely obsessed and unable to move on.
• I want to wear the shirts that his friends at the high schools made to honor him - but don't want people to think I'm out for attention.
• I don't want people to think they need to be careful around me - but at the same time, I feel unbelievably fragile.
• I want to do his laundry but somehow feel like I'm being disrespectful to him for even considering moving it.
• We used his room for a staging area for the big furniture that was moved from the Champaign house but I couldn't help feeling guilty for using "his space" for that. 
• Everyone talks about the guilt and/or regret that so many people have who are in this type of situation. Thankfully, so far, I haven't experienced that at all - but I feel guilty for not feeling it. (I told you this was twisted...)
• And there's more, but I'll spare you. 

I used to say that I was living day by day. My new life requires me to live moment by moment. I have been learning that I have to give myself grace, even if others don't at some point. I have to be okay with not being okay - and mean it. My life is different now. I am searching for the new normal because the old normal will never be normal again. 

All of this and I have Christ in my life. Don't even think about what my life would be like without Him! When I said earlier that the strength you see is not me, I meant it. That is the truth. As for me? I'm a mess. But what God does with that mess has been nothing short of a miracle. What you see is Him, not me. Please hear that...read it again...let it sink in. When speaking at Mario's Celebration of Life, at some point, I went completely off what I had prepared. I had no idea what I said. Literally I had to watch the video to see what came out of my mouth. That was not me. 

So many people say it is my faith that has gotten me through and I thought that was true. But it is not. Craig Grochele said the other day, "Don't put your faith in your faith. Put your faith in God." Whoa. It puts a different spin on things doesn't it? So, that means that instead of "hanging on to our faith", we should be hanging on to God. It is in that belief of God that our faith is made real.

(Inserting a little extra commentary here - 2/23/2016 - the other thing I have heard multiple times is about how I must be mad at God for taking Mario. I'd like to debunk that by saying I am not mad at God, nor have I ever been. It may sound crazy but I am incredibly thankful that God was merciful. Merciful? Yes. He was merciful in that He took Mario on impact. All evidence points to an instant death, on impact from the blunt force trauma. How is that merciful? That means he didn't suffer. He wasn't laying there in pain like some thought happened...all alone...out in the middle of a cornfield (by the time the car stopped). The first responders that I had the honor of meeting shared with me that when they got there, Mario looked as if he was asleep. No fear on his face. No pain. Just peacefully asleep. In my mind, there are a thousand or more ways that this could have ended. If it must happen, I'd much rather it be quick and painless. That, to me, is a merciful God at work. I'm not mad. I'm thankful for His grace and mercy.)

As the grieving process continues - as I suspect it will for a long time, know that your continued prayers, love, and support in various ways has made a difference. Thank you for your friendships, patience and kind words, your hugs and your smiles, for checking in on us and for loving us right where we are...even in the midst of the twisted mangle called the grieving process...

#aintstressin

#missingyou

Grieving is Twisted (Part I)

Getting close to the two year anniversary of Mario's death, I have noticed my mind and heart getting caught up in all of the feelings. Deciding to blog to "get it out of my head and onto a screen" (as I like to say) I noticed the blog post below that never was posted - on purpose. In fact, my feelings were running at such a high rate that there is a part 2. After reading through it all, my thought is that I could just say "ditto" and leave it at that. It's all relevant and it is as if I am starting to relive some of it again.

Please know that there is never a day or waking hour that Mario doesn't cross my mind for something. But this time of year brings a hypersensitivity with it apparently. I was hopeful it would just be the first year...I can confirm it is the second as well.

Although for whatever reason I was too afraid to post this six weeks after Mario's death, it's getting posted now. For anyone who is going through the grieving process anew, I hope it is helpful. A glimpse into my reality in April of 2014...(part 2 tomorrow)

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Grieving is twisted.

This blog post could close right there with that one sentence, those three little words, but I'll explain - if I can. 

Today marks the six week anniversary of that dreaded call from the Deputy Coroner who had been sitting outside the house in Champaign for well over an hour waiting for me to come "home", not realizing we had moved just three weeks earlier to Tuscola. She didn't want to deliver the news over the phone and hesitated many times before she shared that Mario was in an accident. It wasn't until I assured her that my husband was next to me that she finally said those words: "I'm so sorry. He did not survive." 

What the very kind Deputy Coroner didn't realize is that I already knew. I didn't know it for a fact, but I knew something wasn't right. Something inside me stirred and my heart dropped when I received a twitter notification from the local paper at 7:27 p.m. saying, "Police report an accident at Cardinal and Rising." I tried to reason with myself that Mario wouldn't go that way. He would take the interstate all the way to lacrosse practice. Then the internal wrestling began: "no, he wouldn't have known to do that. He would have taken familiar routes. Why would he do that? Why Rising? No, he would have just taken Staley. No, he could have taken Rising thinking it was a shortcut. I remember when he told me he thought it was a shortcut. What am I thinking? This is crazy. That isn't him. He would call if he was in an accident." 

A few minutes before 8 I gave in and sent him a text to ask if he made it; something I never do. No response. Again with the reasoning: practice started at 8. He isn't around his phone and that explains the unresponsiveness. More wrestling. When 9:30 rolled past on the clock and still no response even after practice should have been over, I reasoned he was a chatter box and loved to hang out after practice to talk and throw the ball around with his friends. But looking back, deep down, I knew. 

10:18 - Casting out the "bait" text telling him to invite his friend to supper to celebrate his birthday with us the next night, including in it a cautionary, "Get home safely" and seeing it turn green (meaning it is not connected to wireless or the phone is off - for iPhones), I knew. I knew but I tried to call anyway - it went straight to voice mail. I knew. Right after I told Greg we were going to wait this out, the phone rang. "NO ID". I knew. I'm pretty sure Greg knew too. And it was in that moment that life changed and the race was on to get in touch with our immediate family before the coroner's office had to release his name to the press who had already been out at the scene and showed footage of it on the 10 p.m. news. (So thankful we don't watch the news!) 

In the middle of the night, and into the wee hours of the morning, our house was flooded with the love and presence of Pastor Jerris and some of our closest friends. Even in the extreme emotional exhaustion, sleep did not come easy and when there was a momentary drift into sleep, my body would not allow it to continue and woke itself up with the groaning of the heart that escaped through my voice involuntarily. I cannot explain it - it was as if sound just overflowed from the breaking of my heart. 

For the next two weeks everything was on a foggy autopilot. There were momentary tears as the pain welled up but most of my waking hours were steeped in the details of getting his sister home from Spain, cemetery plots, obituaries, caskets, flowers, service information, clothes for him, clothes for us, and the list goes on...and continues to go on even to this day.  

And the grieving doesn't end there...

Taken Too Soon?

Over the last several days as many of you have joined together with my family and I to mourn the loss of my son Mario, we have taken comfort and gained a sense of peace in reading your notes to us, to Mario, and to others through various means, including social media. One of the things that has struck me that has been somewhat of a common theme is the expression that Mario was taken too soon; too young. If that is your line of thinking, I'd like to challenge you to see things a bit differently. 

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations." Jeremiah 1:5. This verse is one that I have hung onto for many years and it seems even more applicable now than ever before. It has encouraged me that God knew me before I was ever created in my mother's body. He knew me and yet chose me despite the mistakes I would make, irregardless of my shortcomings, failures, and bad decisions. This scripture not only applies to me of course, but it applies to everyone. God knew who you were, the choices you would make, the good and the bad, and He chose you anyway. Think about it like this...we are talking about God here. Don't you think he had a choice? He literally made you. He could have picked any other mixture of personality traits, looks, etc., but He didn't...He chose you and I. Mario is no different. God chose him. 

The second part of that verse should not go unnoticed. "...before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations." That sounds huge, right? Daunting even. Perhaps you are getting stuck on the part about being a "prophet to the nations." The definition of a prophet is someone who "speaks for a God or a deity, or by divine inspiration". Another definition is "a person regarded as, or claiming to be, an inspired teacher or leader." (dictionary.com) When you think of the word "nation" maybe you think of something on the scale of the United Nations but really a nation can be a body of people in your life. Those that are in your sphere of influence. 

When I was in the day-to-day life with Mario, there were glimpses of Mario being a prophet to nations as he taught friends about the love of Jesus, but on the back end of all of that, I can now see plainly that Mario was a prophet to his nations (read that: his peeps) through not only direct teaching, but also through his smile, his laugh, the way he accepted and befriended others. For me, Mario is a living, breathing example of Jeremiah 1:5. 

I'd like to challenge you with a few additional thoughts about Mario's life. His life had a purpose. There is no doubt in my mind about that. As his mother I am naturally inclined to think that his life was cut short and he was taken too soon. There are no words that sufficiently describe the absolute heartbreak I have felt since receiving the call on March 6th telling me my baby boy was in an accident and did not survive. Never before have I felt like my heart was literally breaking in my own body. Never before have I known the meaning of the term "gut wrenching" - where the pain is so tremendous that it literally takes you to your knees. There has been a very real and torturous physical pain that has occurred with the loss of my son. But through it all I have known with everything in me that Mario's life had a purpose and he served that purpose to the fullest extent. 

And I believe that this was all part of the plan: the timing of Mario's death, the people in his sphere of influence at this point in his life - and in the past, even the way that he died and where he died. Mario's death is not in vain. You want to know what the purpose of his life was? I wish I could show you the magnitude of the impact of his life as it is unfolding to us as his family after the fact. I wish I could share with you every letter, card, sign, email, phone call, post, text message, tweet, and conversation that I have had the privilege of experiencing that go well beyond the courtesy of a condolence and venture into the depths of Mario's impact in other's lives. We have been humbled and stunned by the love we have seen expressed through various means and floored by the over 700 people who took time to show their support and share their stories at Mario's visitation and service. I have always been proud of Mario but I have never been prouder of him than I am right now. And I am honored to have been chosen to be his "mamma". 

In my opinion, Mario wasn't taken too soon or too young. This was the way it was supposed to be. It was all in the plan - we just didn't know the plan. But here we are, in the midst of the bigger plan. God is in control. Let me say that again...God is in control. Believe that. 

"From birth I was cast on you; from my mother's womb you have been my God." Psalms 22:10