Night Watch

Rain, I hate the rain.  Searching in the dark for the clock, I see it is four o’clock in the morning.  Upon awakening, I have my usual moments of disorientation.  In my groggy state, I feel something is missing.  Deep anxiety makes me weepy and hollow.  Coming to full wakefulness, I reach out…..I now know what is missing.  Turning over, I pound the pillow with my fist in anguish, beseeching God for answers.  He is telling me to accept.  I’m asking Him, “How?”

“I’m outraged over past events I couldn’t control.  I’m outraged by Death and all it takes with it.  Rolling over on my back I listen to the rain.  Its steady beat rattles the windows.  “God,” I whisper in the dark, “I’ll need a miracle to overcome this loneliness and despair.  I can’t bear it.”

It’s the month of March, dreary and cold—like my life.  I thought Thanksgiving and Christmas were unbearable without Jack, but this cold and dreary rain reaches into my soul.  I seem to be moving rapidly towards a bottomless pit.

For days now, I have been filled with regrets and recriminations.  Why didn’t I talk Jack out of the surgery?  Did I let him down?  Why couldn’t I reach his mind as he lay unconscious?  Why didn’t I have that sixth sense to warn me of coming disaster, I always seem to have it for the children?  I should have prayed harder, bargained with God—anything except helplessly watch death steal him away.

Everyone else is pursuing their various lives.  I’m standing still.  Someone introduced me as a widow the other day.  I was shocked.  “Widow,” I repeated silently to myself.  What a stupid word, it sounds like a disease.

I have no direction.  Managing a home, rearing children and tackling problems that occur keep me busy but not fulfilled.  The children are my saving grace, but I must let them pursue their own lives and not let them get bogged down with mine.

Why plan a day?  What’s the purpose?  Where is my joy, my delight for life?  There is no one with whom to share my inner thoughts.  The loss is there everyday in countless ways.  A partner to touch, a sharing of hope, love, dreams and laughter; the little gestures and expressions that endear. Losing these things caused great loneliness and a feeling of incompleteness.  As much as I love my children they cannot fill the void that is left without Jack.

I cried aloud, “God, have mercy on me!  What am I to do with my life now?  I’m in complete chaos.  I have no desire to be around people and no desire for the challenge of life.  I need a way out of this destructive maze, I’m going insane,” I lamented in utter despair.

I begged for release from the pain.  Where else could I go with my anguished soul, but to Jesus? I’d reached the end of myself again.  I knew Jesus would understand and help me as no one else could.  He knew the turmoil of my heart.

Then my soul heard the command.  “Don’t waste your sorrows, be anxious for nothing.  I’m well acquainted with grief, be patient and listen.  Trust me.”

Out of this command to my desolate soul in the early morning hours of total and overwhelming grief, came peace—a beginning.  In walked mercy.

In the days and weeks to follow, I began to listen and make my sorrow work for me instead of allowing it to defeat me.  I began living again, not merely existing.  It was painful. Life would be different for me now, but it was a new beginning.

Each day I would force myself to accomplish something—read a book, go outside for long solitude walks, exercise my weaken body, make a positive decision.  I began to look around as if awakening from a long sleep.

I gave thanks and praise.  I could always find something to appreciate: family, health, friends and the ability to end a day without crying; the rustle of the wind, the scratching sound of leaves skipping down the street, a sun-drenched day, even the rain.