Thank you. My mom is a former nun and Franciscan. She works with the Poor Clares in Wilmington, DE on a weekly basis. Oddly my faith has not been a source of comfort- but for my wife she has become more certain that we will be reunited.
It is strange how differently we have gone down the path- but we also have learned to live and support each other in whatever means possible.
Our credo was "if it works for you then do it." My plan is going to have to change....but I'm ok with that.
One major thing in all of the learning I've had about mortality is that I no longer fear death at all. Nothing or nobody can harm me more than what I've been through. In a very twisted way my daughters passing has given me that freedom...
Safe driving
Wow, cool stuff about your Mom.
So I wanted to say a word or two about faith since you mentioned it...not to talk you out of your pain or make it seem comprehensible or justifiable. I wouldn't insult you by attempting such a thing.
To me, the mystery of faith...and suffering...lies iin the cross. God sent his Son with a message for the World, but the World didn't want to hear it. So he was tortured to death in front of a jeering mob and was spared nothing, even in his last moments the ultimate human temptation to despair:
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
At one time or another in life, maybe a number of times, many of us have asked some version of that question:
Why,
God? Where are you? How could you let this happen?
I first asked it as a 17-year old kid when my comfortable world was suddenly blown apart on the day a grim-faced doc delivered the news that my Dad...age 41, a picture of health, former Marine officer, star athlete, rock-solid head of our family, a man I idolized...would be dead in six months.
I asked it again on the morning he died after months of suffering, having been reduced to an almost unrecognizable shell of a human being as his traumatized wife and children watched helplessly, when I walked into the bedroom where my two young sisters, ages 9 and 11, had hidden themselves in a household of paralyzed grief and found them curled up on the floor with the 11-year old sobbing out the same words over and over:
It isn't fair...It isn't fair.
Nothing would ever be the same again for any of us. For me, it wasn't just my Dad who died that morning. It was a comfortable way of looking at life where everything fit neatly into its place and horrible things only happened to other people.
In that situation, a person can find themselves being propelled into the "fog" that you mentioned in a different post above...where they go through the motions but have lost the capacity to feel anything. It's a psychological defense mechanism. The problem is that when you numb yourself to the pain, you numb yourself to every other emotion.
What I came to believe then and still do 53 years, 6 kids, and 31 grandkids later is that faith is a function of will. Intellect and reason are necessary but can only take you so far. Emotions are illusory and changeable. The reality of God and the universe cannot be comprehended by the human mind. But the human spirit and the will to faith endure when all else fails.
I've seen tragedy, trauma, and suffering in my life and my family. So has my wife in her life and her family. However, I've also seen miracles...wonderful things that should never have happened but somehow did...failure and weakness that should have ended in disaster but somehow didn't...things that I find hard to explain in any way other than as the work of God's grace.
Every single week I write a letter to my daughter at the monastery. And every single letter ends with the same three words: Keep the faith. Because at the end of the day, it all boils down to a choice between hope or despair. I think hope is better and healthier. And the foundation of hope is...faith.
