The struggle to hold on or let go

I thought I would be with her when she stepped away from earth and into heaven. She had been laboring more with her breathing the past few days, strong medicine keeping her out of consciousness. I honestly did not think it would be the night she left us. Yet I kissed her and told her it was ok to go home that evening. How could I say that and not realize what was going to happen? Her breathing was a loud rattling. If you’ve ever sat with someone who is dying you know that sound. It is unmistakable and horrible. There’s no way to sleep through that sound, yet that is what I did. I put in ear plugs, took a sedative and went to sleep. So many sleepless nights had left me exhausted. If I could just sleep a few hours. Around 2:00 am I woke up suddenly. No rattled breathing. All was quiet. Wait… is she gone? I jumped up from the bed and walked to her side. No, she was not breathing. I held her hand and it was still warm. Oh Mom. Her hand still has the warmth of life in it. Hands that held me in strong embrace only five days ago while I sobbed.

Have you walked the long road home with a loved one before? Watched a chronic illness shrink the life in someone? If you have, you know the tension that is never resolved:  You don’t want her to struggle any more, and you also don’t want to let her go. You cannot have both. Years of watching her quality of life diminish in no way makes the final good-bye a blessed event. Even the promise of her finally being Home does nothing for the pain. As a believer that is hard to admit. And I know for certain that Jesus himself does not judge me for that. He knew that pain too. Do you remember the story of Lazarus? Jesus, being fully God knew that his beloved friend would die. And he knew he would raise him back to life. Yet when confronted with the grief of losing his friend and seeing the pain of Mary and Martha, what did he do? He wept.    

It is only now that I can grasp the profound mystery and comfort of that shortest verse in the bible. He knows my pain. He feels my grief as real as I feel it now. Simultaneously he knows the joy of having my mom home with him, healed forever. Grief and joy. A time to mourn and a time to dance. Jesus can mourn with me and dance with my mom. In Him all things truly do hold together. And in him I am held together.