Since becoming “the grieving mother” I have joined several Facebook groups for the bereaved. Some specific to moms, some specific to childhood cancer, some specific to children’s brain caner. These groups have been my therapy for three years. At times I am heavily involved. I pour my heart out. I attend online chats. I cry over other people’s stories. I offer advice or a hug. Once I offered art therapy ideas to anyone in the group who wanted to give that a try. And at other times I’m more of a bystander. I read the posts and offer s quick comment. I suppose it depends on what my psyche is able to handle.
The other day I read a post from a mom who was not doing well. She was begging the unanswerable question: “why?” Of course there’s no way to comment in any way that provides a sense of understanding. But there were two that have really stuck with me. I jotted them down and I have mulled them over maybe a thousand times.
The first was “My purpose in his life was fulfilled.” This resonated with me when I think of life as a flow, a never ending river that carries our souls from one encounter to the next. It reminds me of that poem about how friends have different purposes. Some are for a season and some are for the long haul. It made me think that my purpose in TJ’s eternal life was a twelve-year long haul.
And while I found a nugget of peace in that idea, there was something that didn’t quite sit right- all the other people in his life for those twelve years. And there are plenty of people who knew him his entire earthly life: his dad, older sisters, grandparents, aunts and uncles, older cousins. Had all these people also somehow fulfilled their purpose in his life at the exact same time as well? So while the sentiment fit well on a personally emotional level, the thinking part of me said “no, there are too many people that were in his life, all needing to have fulfilled their purpose in his life at roughly the same time.” Who finished their part in his life first? Who finished last? Who would even want to be last? Because that right there? That would be the final fulfillment, the cause, the why, albeit a very spiritual “why”.
It was a second comment, one that was similar but different, that really spoke to me. “He fulfilled the measure of his creation in a beautiful way.” How completely lovely. Not just fulfilled, but fulfilled beautifully. I believe it was my sister, Jeri, who told me that TJ had done what his soul had agreed to do by coming to Earth. He had finished his task. I don’t know what that task was. There has been speculation among certain people over the years as to what he was sent here to do. Was it something ancestral and familial? Was it something on a much bigger scale, but not necessarily public? He was always jotting down concepts and theories about time and space and quantum physics in his journal. Was it something that would change lives for the better in a tangible way? After all, he was on track to become a mechanical engineer and had his sights on Drexel for college. I don’t know. I will never know.
What I do know is that I hear from someone every week who has remembered TJ, passed on his story, or has been touched by him, even if they never met him. His life was beautiful (save sibling arguments) and his spirit lives on in its beauty, even after physical death has taken him from me.
It’s hard not knowing. No, it’s actually not hard. Because that doesn’t begin to describe the not knowing. Imagine being prepared for a final exam in a very challenging class. You KNOW you are ready. You walk into the class and sit down. Then suddenly you realize you know nothing. There’s a pit in your stomach that gnaws at you. Anger nd frustration toward yourself start to build because you should have known these things. But there’s a chance to take the test again next week. So you go back home and you study, you fill yourself with everything there is to know and understand on the subject. When the test day comes again you believe you have a firm grasp on how it all works. Until you sit down at that exam. Then once again you have no idea what you’re doing, what you’re thinking, what you’re talking about. Imagine this scenario repeating for the rest of your life. You think you have something figured out only to realize for the 1000th time that, in fact, you do not. This is the torture of “why”.
And this is why the woman’s comment that he “fulfilled the measure of his creation in a beautiful way” is all I need. I can’t torture myself with “why”. I would truly go insane if I did. To know and to believe in this one simple and truthful phrase is all I need. Because it’s all I have. And I’ll take it.
