After spending the night with my mom, someone who is fading from this life, I can only describe my state as “raw.’
There are so many things playing together with the passing of a loved one.
“Oh death, where is thy sting?”
But death is still really hard. It is hard to watch, it is hard to accept, it is simply the hardest thing for humans.
I admire those who have found life purpose and calling in ministering to those dying and those who are dealing with death. It takes a special strength.
I don’t have it.
I hate suffering, even if it brings about something good as God teaches us.
I am not as compassionate as I could be, I simply don’t have the ability to force sympathy—I would far rather run from it. I feel raw. What a weakness.
Getting through these days, watching my mom pass away slowly and steadily, is very difficult for me. I want to be of use and service, but I struggle with the process and the seemingly endless progression toward the inevitable outcome.
I know she is frustrated as well. She wanted a distress-free passing. But, I think distress is unavoidable in death.
We contemplate our own deaths as we see our loved one die.
It’s natural, I guess.
I’m tired. Thanks for reading my dark thoughts. I don’t suffer in silence. I vent here. I’m being raw.
We hold on to the word that the grave does NOT have the victory.
That gets us through.
MARANATHA!