you understand the lyrics.” - Frank Ocean
"What happens now?"
"Empty talk and circling, isn't that what we're supposed to do?"
These lines remind me of the struggle to talk to people about our extremely sensitive, private matter. Our daughter didn't just move out. It was... messy. There was deception, betrayal, physical danger. It was more traumatic than when my abusive first marriage ended in divorce, and that had rocked my world since I take marriage very seriously and am fiercely loyal. But what does happen when you survey the destruction and realize, "If I'm still alive, there must be a reason"?
That's a brave statement to declare when you've lived through not one but a few 'that would never happen to us' type events in less than a year's time. When I first began listening to this song, tears streamed down my face and my voice quivered as I sang those words, "I will stand my ground," sounded like a tall order when each day was a struggle. However, I had young children at home and they needed life to move forward. They needed me to smile more, to have my mind in the present, not wound up in worries about the past or the future. Choosing to stand on God's promises of goodness was the only choice I had as I certainly couldn't stand on my own strength, it was too depleted. Daring to hope was a huge step forward in the grieving process for me.
What has that got do to with the grieving process?
More than I realized. When I lost my beloved grandparents, who were so special to my heart, I didn't feel guilty planning to do something fun with my family a few weeks later. When our immediate household reduced by 1 it left a gaping hole. Don't set 6 plates on the table anymore. What do you do with that empty chair staring at you? When we finally made the decision to take family portraits, it was a gloomy affair. Thankfully our photographer was sensitive and clever, and we opted to do some 'silly' poses with our littles which lightened the mood enough to get decent pictures. Pictures showing 5 of the 6 of our family. Sigh. Happiness felt like something I yearned for, but also felt guilty indulging in. Should we really go have fun when we all have such heavy hearts? I started to see the answer was a resounding YES! We needed it.
Another thing I needed to learn was how to set boundaries. There were a couple curious people who came to ask us how we, and our estranged daughter, were 'doing' every chance they got. Out of respect for her, we opted not to share details about the difficult time in her life and her actions leading up to and following her departure. A couple people who knew her just seemed overly interested and they weren't getting the hint that it was flat out none of their business. Their seemingly kind inquiries were poorly masked efforts to satisfy their own curiosity. We're not here for your entertainment, folks.
"I've been doing my part, but I ain't got much to show. I'm asking you to show me some forgiveness. It's all for You in my pursuit of happiness." Gently, then firmly, and sometimes repeatedly setting boundaries with these individuals made me have conflicting feelings. Maybe they just wanted to pray specifically? Maybe they deserved an explanation since they knew our daughter? Not more than she and the rest of our family deserved privacy regarding matters of sensitive nature.
Another part of this song that rung true for me was, "I've got dreams that keep me up in the dead of night, telling me I wasn't made for the simple life." I had nightmares that plagued me for months. These weren't like normal nightmares, close to night terrors where I'd wake up extremely distraught with my heart racing. More than once I went and checked on my sleeping children to remind myself of the truth that they were safe.
We weathered the storm as a family unit, with very few close friends 'in the loop.' It was good for me to realize I could allow myself to grieve as though someone had died. A family member actually said (not being rude or sarcastic, but thoughtful and gentle), if she had died, at least there would be closure, but what you guys went through..." Closure... something that I didn't know how to chase after, so I trust fully to the hands of God. I had to trust Him with myself, my husband, and all of our children every day and in the future.
The song "Rescue" reminds me and reassures me that God is pursuing our daughter. He is loving her where she is. He is never, ever going to give up on her as long as she is alive on this earth, there is hope. Whether or not He will restore what has been lost, I do not know. But I know He could.
If you're grieving, please know that my journey and yours are different.
I am writing all of this over 3 years after the most painful time for our family,
it would've sounded much different if I'd tried to write it during the grief.
Reach out if you need help.