Escaping the Noise: Run to the Father

There are days when I want to think about anything, other than grief. Some days I’m so weary of my own mind. My own thoughts on repeat: Missing. Death. Dying. Addiction. Loss. Wishing for a different outcome. Oh, how I want things to be normal again but what does that really mean anymore? Even if my daughter didn’t run off to heaven, Covid certainly took care of what our normal looks like now.

As I drive down the road from out of nowhere, I find myself saying, “I miss you, Melanie.” As I’m in the middle of a conversation with my husband, I find these words tumbling out of my mouth, “I miss my girl.” There are days I ache to think about and talk about something different!

Springtime! Now that is the total opposite of death and dying. Spring is a time of rebirth. Newness. Life! I take a moment and look around at the beauty of the flowers I’ve planted and notice how they are now blooming and coming to life.

As I pull down the driveway and look over into Melanie’s Meadow it looks more beautiful by the day. Again, this year I planted everything in her favorite color – pink. The pink geraniums are so happy with this lovely weather and the pink petunias are flourishing! Her sunflower flag blows in the gentle breeze of the wind, reminding me of how her long pretty auburn hair used to do same thing. Even as I try to think of other things it’s funny how my thoughts eventually come back around to what I’m trying to avoid thinking about.

As I enter the house I look out toward the backyard, which has recently been transformed with more beautiful flowers surrounding the pool. I decide to go out back and ease myself into the lounge chair looking toward the waterfall. The sound and echo as the water hits the pool brings peace to this weary soul. It’s here that I spend a lot of time praying and talking with my Heavenly Father. It’s here that I look upward through the tall, green trees into the blue sky and look at the puffy white clouds that remind me of soft cotton balls. Even though I’m longing for a different narrative and one that doesn’t center on loss, grief or dying my eyes automatically look heavenward and all I can think about is my girl.

Is she looking down at me? Is she perhaps sitting right beside me, feeling my heart yearning for her as I wish things could be different? Then I think – but God.

He knows my heart. He knows my thoughts before I even speak a word. This grief and loss are a part of me now. There is no escaping it. No running from it. Even if I choose to not write about it, there it is, bubbling below the surface like the powerful water and energy of a geyser getting ready to burst forth.

Oh, how grateful I am for you, Jesus. Where else could I run to? Who else would greet me with such love and understanding amid the myriad of thoughts and emotions? Who else would gather me in their arms and say, “I understand my child?” No one but you, Lord. Only you. So, I will continue to do what I have done from the beginning – Run to the Father. Knowing there is no way to escape the pain and hurt caused by grief. We must go through it in order to get to the other side.

“Thank you, Lord for continuing to heal this broken heart and crushed spirit. No matter what I may think or feel you are always with me, always lifting me up. I am so grateful for you and thankful for the years I had with my daughter. I will continue to focus on the good knowing this is not the end, but only the beginning. The day Melanie ran ahead to heaven was the day Mercy Won! Thank you for rescuing her, Father and thank you for loving me through this journey so well.”