I am beginning to realize that not only did Judson die, but I have to die to so many of the ideals for how I thought my life would be today and in the future. As time goes on, I must let go not only of Jud, but I must let go of what I had envisioned for the Levy 4. My paradigm is undesirably and dramatically shifting with each passing second.
When Jessie was born, I had such a sense of completion for our family. We had our little nuclear unit-mom, dad, son, and daughter. It seemed perfect to me, and left me desiring nothing more than a simple life for the four of us. Jud and Jessie were so close in age, and I had imagined them growing up together, enjoying each other, and finding close friendship in adulthood.
Not only am I crushed over the death of my son, but my dreams for our family’s future have been shattered. I feel a physical pain in my chest many times a day as I die to the life I once visualized.
I have been reading a book by a man, Jerry Sitser, who experienced tremendous loss. His words over his journey of grief resonate with me. I have adapted a quote from his story to reflect my heart and experience over the loss of my future…
Somewhere along the line I realized that I would have to change my idea of what the “good life” meant and promised. The old definition died in my arms three months ago. The new definition is gradually and quietly emerging and I am not sure how to make sense of it. But one thing I know: I have to let the old definition of the good life die first, without having any information and certainty to form a new definition. This period of dying to the old before I have any notion of the new is extremely difficult and heart wrenching. With one act of my life unexpectedly finished and another not yet ready to begin, I feel stuck in an intermission that will never end.
Nothing in life seems good. I have lost my one and only son. The world seems a bleak place to me; my future is dim as dusk on a gray winter’s day. Somehow I have to believe that life will be good again when I have little reason or evidence at my disposal.
As I die to the future I once imagined, dear Lord, please come and breathe life into my present.