the heaviness of missing

“how anxiously I yearned for those I had forsaken.”
Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Dream of a Ridiculous Man


(crab/ Rosemary Beach / Julie Cook / 2019)

I have always wrestled with the notion of “good-byes”.
I don’t like them.
Never have.
Most likely never will.

There is an odd finality to it all…this business of good-byes…
or so it surely seems at the time of parting.

Perhaps it is the continuity of constancy and consistency that seem threatened
during the action of good-byes.

More times than not, I readily comprehend the cognizant reality–
meaning that my mind is well aware that I will indeed be seeing or be with whomever it is
that might be momentarily leaving my physical presence…

So in some regards, I feel almost silly for getting so worked up or sad.
My brain screams at me, telling me to suck it up, you’ll see them–again– soon–
For crying out loud!

Yet the pain in the spirit, soul, and heart is still very real
as I know that there are those good-byes that are temporary and those that are more permanent.
And it is the permanence of those good-byes that are indeed most bitter…
As all of us will eventually experience such on a very personal level.

I don’t know but I often think adopted folks feel partings perhaps a bit more deeply than others…

I am more than aware of the effects that a mother-to-be has upon her unborn baby in the womb—

There is a transference of emotions, hormones, sounds, senses…even down to the very things
the mother eats or drinks.

Throw in anger, sorrow, stress, fatigue, resentment…
all of that passes through to the one she carries.

A baby who is destined to be “left behind” following its birth…be that for adoption,
knows most pointedly on a deep subconscious level, for a lifetime, the pain of both
rejection and good-byes…

Be they simple, short and fleeting or be they bitter, lasting and full of forever loss…
a good-bye is deeply felt and understood.

And so it was with the parting of our grandchildren today, after having been with them
for the past three days, that my heart was weighed down by the stinging tears
associated with such a parting and loss…

Picking up the left-behind toys and the topsy turvy disarray of a house that only babies
and toddlers bring…
all the while battling with a personal heaviness of heart and stinging tears.

Silly emotions really, but the depth of sudden stillness can be physically unsettling
when just moments before, just before the fully loaded car pulled out of the driveway,
the level of endless energy had been deliriously exhausting as it filled the entire house.

In my particular case of loss, as my brain works tirelessly to tell me, will be blessedly short.
Yet all the while, I know that for others, some good-byes will be sadly lasting and difficult.

So I was reminded of all of this notion of partings and good-byes today when I read
my friend Salvageable’s blog post regarding his missing of a fellow blogger friend.

https://salvageable04.wordpress.com/2019/06/28/the-fading-and-disappearance-of-aurora/

Often in our lives, our experiences of missing and loss come because of the one we
long for, for whatever reason, opts to move on or perhaps move away…

There comes frustration in such losses because they are really out of our control,
as are most losses—and they come with no real explanation or reasoning.

One day they’re here, the next day they are not.
No words, no contact, no good-bye.

An open-ended loss.

Just as we experience with a death…
equally as difficult and hard to wrap one’s head and heart around…
for there is no control with the loss.

Most often, there is also no opportunity for farewell.

Either way, the after effects affect our whole being.

I offered my empathy to Salvageable as I expressed just how much I’ve missed my blogging
friend Natalie.

Much the same way that I miss my aunt.
Both became sick and yet I never saw either one of them during their illness.
In Natalie’s case, we had never met face to face.

One minute, we spoke over the phone, then there’s an illness that occurred, and then poof,
they were gone.

Just the other day, my daughter-n-law and I both lamented how much we missed “Aunt Maaaaaathhaaa”
It’s just weird that she’s no longer a physical part of our family.
We spoke on the phone on a Tuesday evening as I shared that she was to soon be a great aunt.
I had no visible bearing as to how sick she was as we chatted about my becoming a grandmother.
Her voice raspy but her mind was focused as she talked about getting some strength back.
A day later… on Wednesday, she was gone.

Similar to my friend Natalie, but our’s was communication via texts and emails while she was
in the hospital.
I told her that I was going to fly out to see her…a day later her daughter actually text back
that her mom was in ICU and for me to wait.
Four day’s later she was gone.

I liked what Salvageable had to say in his post about there being a designated place in Heaven for
Wordpress bloggers to finally meet…because there are so many of you I love dearly,
yet we have never sat together at a kitchen table and shared a face to face laugh or tear.

And such is this life of ours…perhaps it’s akin to being something like pen-pals.
One day, for whatever reason, the letters just stop coming.
Leaving us to always wonder as to what happened.

Yet thankfully there is a takeaway in all of this melancholy chatter and that is actually
the of good news in all of this heaviness.

For it is here, where many of us join and come together, that we are brought together
by our shared love for Jesus Christ.

Even those who come here to counter our words and our posts…those ardent disbelievers and atheists
who come to argue, fuss, cuss and discuss our seemingly “disillusionment”–
all come because of Jesus.

And for those of us who believe, it is that love of Jesus that sustains all of our losses,
be they great or small, temporary or seemingly neverending.

Therein resides our Hope and our Grace.

For those of you who come to fuss, cuss, discuss or for those who come simply with their loss and sorrow…
blessedly and thankfully, we all have Hope.

For He is indeed the great I AM…

‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes.
There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain,
for the old order of things has passed away.”

Revelation 21:4

15 comments on “the heaviness of missing

  1. hatrack4 says:

    Thank you. Good words. It has been about a year since Murdo Murchison made his last post, defying the cancer in his body. To me, he was one of those beloved bloggers. To my niece, he was an angel. She had married and moved to Scotland. When her husband left her, Murdo had given my niece a car to get to work and back until she could manage on her own. He did other things for her as well. That same niece first met her to-be husband on a mission trip. David Robertson was the host church for this group of people from America. Odd how people that you know only by blogging are not that far removed.

    We are about to leave for church. We just received a letter, snail mail, from our beloved pastor yesterday. He too has cancer and will retire (according to the letter) at the end of November. My wife said that going to church for the next few months will be hard. I agree. We love that man and his wife.

  2. Salvageable says:

    Beautiful words, Julie. Separations bring pain and loss, but those of us who are one in Christ are one with each other–even when some of us are still on our earthly journey while others are in the great company of saints in Paradise. J.

  3. atimetoshare.me says:

    The thought of losing one of my blogging friends has been on my mind. I wonder sometimes why they simply disappear without a trace. I only have a select few that I contact outside of the blogosphere, but I know I always feel a connection to all the posts I read and comment on. I feel like I really know these people and can feel their pain and loss as the go through their every day activities. If I kick the bucket, you probably won’t know, because I’m the only one who has access to my account and once I’m gone, so is my blog.

    I would like to leave you a message before that happens. I love you, Julie. You are indeed a special woman with many great talents and a heart for the Word of God. You treasure your relationship with God and I see that you want to pass that legacy onto your grandchildren. Your love of art, history, politics and life in general are apparent in your writing. I know I’ll meet you someday in paradise. I will recognize you immediately and it will be like picking up an old friendship that never dies.

  4. It has been a busy time in my life and I am hitting and missing of late. Just a few days ago I wondered about Natalie and your post informs me. I pray her family and friends will realize God’s comfort, peace, and strength. So thankful that God’s Word is true and we know where she is. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Matthew 5:4

  5. Wally Fry says:

    You know, I have been blessed greatly with the chance to have met three blogging friends in person. As Salvageable said, maybe there will be a special place for us all to gather in Heaven.

  6. lynnabbott says:

    😢 Love you, dear Julie!

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