Skip to main content

Death of another

A colleague of mine is dying. She retired and was then diagnosed with terminal cancer. I think of her. I think of her sons who have only just reached adulthood.

I feel sad she will no longer be here. I wouldn't have seen much of her but the loss of someone so sunny is sad just because it is a loss to the world.

Then there is the shame. The shame that I would gladly take her place. Not to save her but to free me. The shame that whilst she has to plan her funeral because she is dying, I plan mine because I can't bear to live my life.

The shame that I share a gospel of hope and profess a faith where I am expected to suffer. Where I know I am loved beyond measure. Where I know all suffering is for a purpose and will bring glory to God. The shame I tell others of this but cannot live it enough to see any way out of my own suffering.

The shame that where my colleague has no choice, I do and wish I didn't. Trapped as I feel unable to share because I know how selfish this feeling is. Painfully aware that I can save my family from the pain my colleague's husband and sons are facing but that I don't really want to because I am so blinded by how much emotional pain I am in.

So ashamed, alone and unable to see any way to live, again I battle. Battle to urge to save myself.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Elusive Recovery

How do you get better? How do you recover? Do you suddenly wake with hope? Do you feel differently? Do you just notice after it has happened? What is recovery? Is recovery real?  How long does recovery take? Is it even possible? How will I know what recovery looks like? Why does it take so long? So long I gave up hope. What do I need to do now? To end this nightmare forever. I don't know how much longer I can bear this. How can I continue? To face another day. It feels like this will never end. They say it happens slowly. That recovery is possible for me. Do they really know that? Can it really be true? Is recovery possible? Is there a flicker of hope? Or is it just a fairy tale that's not truth? Each day that passes by, Hope slips further away. I feel this is life forever. The tunnel light seems dimmer. No hope, no light, just darkness forever more. I cannot see past this. The pain overwhelms me. I'm deep in a pit of despair. Recovery is a ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Coming home

Pretty much exactly 5 months after my last church attendance I returned today. Since my last time I had only seen 3 people from the congregation face to face. People who live in my town. Who I've seen at least twice a week for years, I'd seen so few of them. Children had grown. Newborn babies now starting to move. Barely bumps now earth side. There were a few new faces too. We decided to go today because we had been invited for Sunday lunch by a couple from church. The sweet, kind hearted, godly doctor who was on duty the weekend I was first taken to hospital. I didn't give myself a choice this morning. I'd set up an excuse not to go for lunch already. Our car was broken. It was true, it was, but I knew it would be fixed in time to go. So I got up and we went. I'd spoken with my counsellor about not feeling it was my home any longer. That I wasn't part of the fellowship anymore. That physically I didn't know where to sit. Our usual seats, middle,front, with ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Excluded

I wasn't prepared to feel this way. I wasn't prepared to feel close to tears when my child came home from your care. I wasn't prepared to pretend to smile at his work and songs and joy whilst burying the physical ache in my chest. I wasn't expecting to feel this exhausted and this alone. I wasn't expecting that yet another professional questioning your judgements and decision making to make me feel more conflicted then ever. I wasn't expecting to still feel so heartbroken after all this time. To miss the you. To miss the hard work. To miss me. I wasn't expecting this to happen at all though. So I guess it shouldn't be a surprise. I don't know what happens now.
Post a Comment
Read more