When you lose your loved one, a giant gaping hole is instantly ripped in your heart. It is ragged and bloody and sends horrible sounds up your throat and out of your mouth. These guttural wails are the initial rages of acute grief…raw and unimaginable. They come of their own free will. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. Three months after Mr. Virgo died and I had returned from my journey through the wilderness of Colorado, I was beginning to cook for myself again. I was rummaging in the spice cabinet when I moved a jar aside and saw it. Mr. Virgo’s secret stash of jelly beans. There were only a couple handfuls left. I crumpled. I laid my forehead on the counter and wailed. Sounds I didn’t know I could make…the ragged sobs coming from someplace deep within like a wounded animal.
In time, the wretched wound began to heal around the edges and take on a somewhat familiar shape…like the missing piece of a puzzle. I tried to stuff anything I could in that hole to stem the bleeding of my soul. I had a couple “relationships”… desperate attempts to replace what I had lost. I soon came to realize the futility of that endeavor. I spent too much, ate too much, traveled too much. I finally swore off adding any new relationships for a year and cut back on everything else.
Somewhere this spring, as the new grass peeked it’s fresh green shoots toward the sun and life returned to my winter weary soul, I slowly recognized the shape of that hole in my heart. It is the exact size and shape of my memories of Mr. Virgo. I puzzled over this for days. What would happen if I just took those beautiful memories and slid them right in that space? I tried…and at first it seemed impossible. I turned them this way and that. I had a death grip on them for fear letting go would mean they would slip away from me and no longer be mine. I would lose him, all over again. And…I couldn’t bear that. So I had a talk with God.
“What are you doing, my child?”
“Oh, it’s YOU! You startled me…I was concentrating.”
“Yes, I’ve been watching you. What you have here is a puzzle.”
“It’s like one of those puzzle boxes. I have this piece…all my memories of Mr. Virgo. And I can see this hole in my heart here exactly matches. But, try as I might, I can’t get it to fit.” ***grunting as I push and shove. I finally sit back on my heels in frustration.*** “Can you help me?”
“Ahhhh, I’ve been waiting for you to ask. You’ve been really struggling with this. Tell me what is bothering you…why are you holding on so tightly?”
“Because…I’m afraid.”
“What is your fear?”
“I’m afraid if I let go, I’ll forget him.” I hung my head in sadness.
God wrapped His arms around me and said, “I know. It’s scary because you aren’t remembering something really important.”
I look up at the sunset in front of me. “I don’t understand. I’ve remembered everything.”
“Look at the sunset that I’ve given you. Does the shape of the sun ever change?”
“No, of course not.”
“You’re right. It is the same every single day…even when clouds obscure it from view, the sun is the perfect shape and it still sets…day after day after day. Why do you suppose that is?”
“Because, You made it so. I trust that it’s there, even when I can’t see it.”
“Well, if I can make something so big and wonderful as sunsets, don’t you think I can help you slip this puzzle piece in and hold it for you?”
“He won’t disappear?”
“Did the sun?”
“No.”
“I promise, I’ll take very good care of your memories. You’ve been carrying them so tight, you can’t do anything else. Here, hand them to Me…let Me slip them in your heart. I’ll keep them safe.”
I looked down at the package of memories. I could see them in there…our wedding, and standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon, and our last Christmas. I could see our laughter, our hands together, our lovemaking on a rainy afternoon in September. I could see the way he looked at me with such love in his eyes. I looked up and said, “Ok. Here. You can have them.”
God carefully took that precious bundle, gently took my hands from their grip on the edge, and slipped that perfect piece into the perfect place. It was an exact fit. “It’s not going to feel the same as it did before, my child. You’ll always feel the rough edges. I put them there to remind you he is here. He will always and forever be right here and you can visit him any time you want, ok?”
I felt lighter. I felt something special had happened. I felt my heart suddenly become full again. God let me fill what had been a ragged, awful, gaping wound with the most perfect package of love and light…my husband. It feels so much better now.
❤
“He has remembered his love and his faithfulness to Israel; all the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God.”
Psalm 98:3 NIV