Austin's Blog

Time heals all wounds. Does it? No, the God of time heals all wounds. Sometimes though, he does not heal within our time but heals all wounds later in Heaven. Some things cannot be fixed; they simply must be carried. Some things can only be rectified through resurrection. Furthermore, time alone cannot fix anything. Healing cannot come about while I’m sitting around passively waiting for it. Healing in, through, and from grief requires hard work. Unless someone leans into their grief and does the hard work, time will do nothing. Over time, the pain becomes “lighter” or easier to carry. This does not mean it has gone away or the pain has subsided. You’ve simply grown around it.

Moving forward is disloyalty to my loved one. One thing you cannot do no matter how much you desire it is change the past or even stay there. You only have the present and the future. For bereaved parents who have lost infants and children, we are moving forward, not away from our children. Our children in Heaven are without sin. There is no sin, sickness, or suffering in Heaven, which means our children are not holding a grudge against us for moving forward. They would want us to live worthy lives for God and move toward them. Loyalty to them means living well, honoring their lives and legacies, and showing the world that there’s something better than life itself.

Progress means taking steps forward, but never steps back. Grief is often uncharted, unexpected, and untamable. There’s no linear model for it. Life is messy and so is the grief process. We are always ourselves in process and go backwards and forwards. We were surprised to find it more difficult as time went on after Gabriel died. Once we talked to other bereaved parents though, it made more sense. The rawness and numbness have worn off and now you’re settling in to your new life without your beloved child. Of course, it is difficult and messy. We are only human.

The lessening of pain indicates a lessening of love. I cannot think of a more insidious lie from the Enemy. Nothing will ever lessen my love for our precious Gabriel. As long as I have air in my lungs, I’ll love him. The lessening of pain simply means I’m growing; it doesn’t mean I’ve grown to love him any less. In fact, my love and longing for him is greater today than ever before. There may be less pain now but we’ve been torn in two. I’ve lost my right arm. C.S. Lewis writes in A Grief Observed after losing his wife, “Getting over it so soon? But the words are ambiguous. To say the patient is getting over it after an operation for appendicitis is one thing; after he’s had his leg off is quite another. After that operation either the wounded stump heals or the man dies. If it heals, the fierce, continuous pain will stop. Presently he’ll get back his strength and be able to stump about on his wooden leg. He has ‘got over it.’ But he will probably have recurrent pains in the stump all his life, and perhaps pretty bad ones; and he will always be a one-legged man. There will be hardly any moment when he forgets it. Bathing, dressing, sitting down and getting up again, even lying in bed, will all be different. His whole way of life will be changed. All sorts of pleasures and activities that he once took for granted will have to be simply written off. Duties too. At present I am learning to get about on crutches. Perhaps I shall presently be given a wooden leg. But I shall never be a biped again.”