I lay in bed with tired, heavy eyes that cannot muster anymore moisture. I long to sleep so I can escape this reality for at least a little while. My eyes are in agreement, but my mind is putting up a battle and is clearly winning. I feel insomnia ridden and drowsy all at the same time. As I lay here I cannot stop replaying the conversations in my head. I am searching for any answers I can find and yet my hands are not able to grasp anything.
It is hard to comprehend the unexpected loss of something that felt so secure… then again there are not many things in this life that are secure. I almost feel as if I am grieving the loss of a loved one, and I guess in a way I am, but it has been very difficult to put these things into proper words. It is even harder to find the proper words to explain this situation to others. There must be some serious communication errors happening because each time I try to have the conversation I get the same answers. Sometimes with different words, but always the same concept. They all say “God will use this for a greater purpose,” or something to that effect.
I am not having a crisis of faith. I know my God is good, and I most certainly know that he can take a mess like this and turn it into a treasure. I don’t need to be consoled with those words. It is obvious that those things are true, but what seems to be consistently misunderstood is the sheer fact that these words do not make this situation hurt any less. They are a simple band-aid on a wound that requires stitches.
Grief is a thing that demands to be felt for however long it wants to be felt, and that is okay.