A Couple Weeks Later
Tuesday, April 2, 2013 8:15 PM CDT
Tuesday, April 2, 2013 8:15 PM CDT
Three weeks ago (on Monday evening), at
approximately the same time I began writing this, we got the heartbreaking news
that Benji would not be able to have a liver transplant. Because of not getting
a liver soon enough, his other organs had become so badly damaged that not only
could he not have a transplant, we were also told he might only have another 2
to 3 more days to live. We had run out of time. While we had been concerned
that Benji was running out of time, we still had hope that he would be able to
hang on till he got that liver. He had been vented earlier that day, which,
both the doctors and we, were hopeful would buy him some time, and we’d just
found out that afternoon that the previous Friday he’d been upgraded to a
status 1B. (That upgrade signified that the surgeons felt he didn’t have much
time left, but it also tremendously increased his chances of getting a liver
quickly). However, after speaking with the doctors that evening, we knew that
unless God performed an incredible miracle very quickly, we were at the end of
the line. We had known all along that his condition could change at any moment,
disqualifying him for transplant; however, it hadn’t occurred to us that his
death could happen so suddenly.
At the time we were given this devastating news, one of my first questions was if he would be able to be taken off the vent so we could all say our goodbyes. The doctors told us that was their hope, but they didn’t know. At that time, I was picturing Benji waking up (as he had in the past), but because he was vented he’d be unable to talk. I wanted him to have the ability to speak to us if he wanted to, not just us to him. Benji never woke up and later, after the boys were all there, we discussed whether or not we should have them attempt to rouse Benji or keep him sedated so he didn’t have to consciously deal with the realization that he was going to die. At that time, we all decided that while WE would like the opportunity to speak to him one last time and tell him goodbye, for his sake, we should probably not attempt to wake him. Looking back, I am soooo grateful he never woke up- not just for his sake, but for ours as well. The thought of having had to tell him the devastating news that he was not going to receive the liver in time, as well as having to look in his eyes and tell him goodbye and that he most likely only had a couple days left on this earth, is an excruciatingly painful thought! I think it would have ripped all of our hearts out. (As I was writing this, it occurred to me that based on Benji’s responses in the past, if we would have had to tell him, I’m sure he would have shed some tears but I expect his demeanor would have remained calm and peaceful. We all may have had a much harder time with it than he would have. Of course, we’ll never know the answer to that.)
Another thing I think about regarding those final hours with Benji and the decision we made whether or not to wake him, were his extremely high (and climbing) ammonia levels. The one reason I was uneasy about not trying to wake him was because of the chance he could hear and understand everything we were saying and though wanting badly to respond, couldn’t. Again however, because of the ammonia levels (the last result was 415), there’s a very good chance he was entirely unable to hear us, and even if he was able to hear, he probably wouldn’t have been able to make sense of anything we said. There is also a good chance that if he had woken up he would have been so disoriented he wouldn’t even have recognized us. I’m glad that is not my memory of our last waking moments with Benji and I do take comfort in the fact that chances are great he was able to slip peacefully away, without ever having to deal with the idea that he was going to die. We are grateful that though God chose to take Benji, he allowed him to slip away quickly and peacefully, and that we were all spared some of the agony we might have gone through.
Since Benji’s death, we’ve been asked (not in an accusatory way, but because it is a common response from people in our situation) if we struggle with questions regarding whether or not we had done everything we could for Benji. Gratefully, both Allen and I can say that is something we do not struggle with and feel confident that we did all we could do to fight for Benji’s life as long as we could. For 15 years, 3 months and 4 ½ days, we did everything within our power to give him the best care possible and keep him healthy and with us as long as possible. We had also been praying, especially in recent months- along with all of you, for God to heal and spare Benji’s life- IF it was his will; and we had continued to hope and believe that God’s will WAS for Benji to live. However, after speaking with the doctors on Monday evening, though we still welcomed a miracle if that was what God wanted to do, we believed we had been given the answer to what God’s will was, and that was not to continue Benji’s life on this earth. At that moment, our focus changed from saving Benji’s life to supporting him as he made the transition into eternity. It was about encouraging Benji (if he could hear us) to not be afraid of the unknown and to trust Jesus fully, to spend as much time with him as possible, to love on him as much as we could and to keep him as comfortable as possible until the end. And, for all of us who loved him so much- the process of grieving the tremendous loss we knew was coming, began.
The grieving began that evening; however, I discovered that there isn’t a lot of time to think about grieving immediately following a death. Especially one that is sudden. Yes, Benji had been sick for quite a long time, but we were by no means expecting to have to plan a funeral at that time. I remember the jolt I experienced when my Mom asked me if we had thought about where we will bury him. I lost it! Who plans where they’re going to bury their child? That’s not the way it’s supposed to work! (at least not to our minds.) The question Mom asked was only one of many questions we had to answer over the following six days. That was a rough week. So much “business” to do and decisions to make at a time when the last thing we wanted to do was “business”. I suppose it may have been a good thing we had to stay busy; otherwise, we may have simply crashed when we got home.
We returned home from St. Louis late Tuesday night and by Wednesday morning, we had our first meeting. Fortunately, we had friends and family to help us through the process of planning how we wanted to handle the viewing times and the memorial service. My dad, having been a pastor for 40 years was very helpful and the funeral director from Miller-Stewart Funeral home was awesome and was a great help as well! With the help of so many, everything over the weekend went very smoothly and while Benji would have hated being in the spotlight like he was that weekend, it was very healing to hear from so many people how much Benji touched their lives. Deciding on a theme for the memorial service was very simple; Benji’s computer password, “inChrist,” was a symbol of his faith in God and that became the central focus of the weekend. The memorial service focused on the message of being “in Christ” and was a beautiful tribute to Benji s as well. People who were a part of Benji’s life, and who knew and loved him gave the tributes from their unique perspectives. These people were his brothers, Aaron, Tyler and Cory, Sylvan and Connie Eash-his uncle and aunt, Anthony Troyer- his cousin, a school teacher- Beverly Eash, Karmin Henley- a classmate and good friend of Benji’s, and Dr. Michelle Howenstine, his pulmonologist from Riley for the last 9 years. All of them spoke about the things we all loved about Benji, and nearly all of them also spoke of his faith and love for God and how his life reflected that. It seems that “inChrist” has become a part of Benji’s legacy and we are discovering that in his short life, the way he lived out his faith in Christ, has touched the lives of so many people. Ultimately, faith in Jesus Christ is what really matters- it determines everything about us both here and in the afterlife. There is nothing more satisfying and comforting than to hear from someone how Benji (and the way he lived out his faith) personally touched their lives; and we’ve heard this from so many, including people who never knew him.
One of the things our sons (and others) mentioned in their tributes was how selfless Benji was and how he was often concerned about being a burden. This was something he didn’t express frequently however, I believe that feeling was constantly there for him and the times he did express it just broke our hearts! I spoke about the following in my February 25th journal entry. That night (the 25th) I was sitting by Benji’s bed while he was in a rather weepy state. He looked at me with tear-filled eyes and, in his whispery voice, brokenly said, “I….can’t…tell you…how grateful…I…am…to you…and Dad…for….putting…up …with me!” My heart broke and I of course assured him how there is no way we were “putting up” with him”; that there was nowhere I’d rather be than there with him. And, I wouldn’t have wanted to spend my birthday anywhere else. He wasn’t quite convinced but didn’t keep pushing the point and a little later, again with tear-filled eyes said in a whisper that was full of emotion, “Thank you!” :’( (Oh how we miss this boy!) At the memorial service, Aaron shared something that Tyler had written: “The only burden we are losing through Benji’s death is the constant desire to take his pain from him.” That was beautiful Tyler and I couldn’t have expressed all of our thoughts better!
My big disappointment that day was that we hadn’t set something up to make sure we knew who all attended the memorial service. We have record of each person that came through the viewing lines; however, there were a number of different doors into the sanctuary and relatively few people signed the guest book at the service. Because there were so many who had come to pay their last respects (around 700), and we left very quickly for the burial, we didn’t get to see nearly everyone. :( It would be so helpful if you could drop a note saying if you were there- unless you know that we know you were there. ☺
On the morning of Benji’s memorial service and burial, I decided I wanted to read to Benji from “Jesus Calling” one last time. We decided I would read at the burial and I chose to read a passage that I had read to Benji previously, and I think I read it to him that Monday night, during his final hours. The reading was from March 24-
“This is a time in your life when you must learn to let go: of loved ones, of possessions, of control. In order to let go of something that is precious to you, you need to rest in My presence, where you are complete. Take time to bask in the light of My love. As you relax more and more, your grasping hand gradually opens up, releasing your prized possession into My care.
You can feel secure, even in the midst of cataclysmic changes, through awareness of My continual presence. The One who never leaves you is the same One who never changes: ‘I am the same yesterday, today, and forever.’ As you release more and more things into My care, remember that I never let go of your hand. Herein lies your security, which no one and no circumstance can take from you.”
Isaiah 41:13 “For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.”
I didn’t know if I’d be able to make it through the reading but I was. When it came time to read, I felt the same strength rise up in me that I had felt numerous times over the last few months, when I wanted to fall apart but knew I HAD to pull it together in order to be there for Benji. Again, God gave me the strength to read to “Benji” one last time. Even though the body in that casket couldn’t hear me, (and I don’t know if Benji could hear us from heaven or not), as had happened so many times over the last month, as I read these words to “him”, they encouraged me. This time, they were an encouragement to all of us who are experiencing the pain of letting go of someone we love. They encouraged us to let go and place our complete trust in God; allowing him to carry us through this painful time.
I inferred above that the body in that casket wasn’t actually Benji. This is something we of course all know intellectually; however, I would have expected it to be more difficult for me to separate the two. When Neil (the funeral director) first opened that casket and we saw Benji’s body lying there, it didn’t seem like Benji; and I think each time I again viewed the body, I would think or say each time before walking away, “That’s not Benji.” Even now, (though this may change), when thinking about where we buried his body, I don’t feel a strong connection- because Benji is not there. Benji, the Benji we know and love, is actually with Jesus! As we drove away from the cemetery the day of the funeral, I told Allen and the other boys that I don’t know how I could handle it if I really thought we had left all there was of Benji in that hole back there. What a blessing and comfort to know he’s actually with God! I would just so love it if I had an actual image of what that looks like. Of course, from scripture, we get glimpses, and these glimpses are comforting; and many of the cards and messages we have received refer to them. I received a FB message from Pam Doughty that especially touched me, and continues to be a comfort to me. I’d like to share it with you:
“The wonderful thing about Heaven and eternity is that time there is NOT like time here. And if a day is like a thousand years, then Benji will have really just had a couple of minutes to look around.. to be swept up first by God, then by Jesus, and THEN by all of the saints who have gone before him.. in great big hugs. He will have looked around with eyes wide with wonder.. he will have experienced the amazement of the sweet smells, the incredible sounds... and then he will turn around and you will be there with him. He will never even have a chance to wonder where you are, because for him? It will be just a blink.”
Isn’t that beautiful? Thank you Pam!
We have been learning many things over the last couple weeks since the funeral. Things like what it means to grieve. And what it looks like for me is not the same as it is for Allen, or each of the boys individually. Not only are we learning what it means to grieve; it is intertwined with learning to adjust and re-adjust to life as a family, in the community and with our church family- and doing so without Benji. Following is a paragraph out of a letter Allen and I wrote to our church family.
***We would also like to share with you where we find ourselves in a more personal way. Where do we go from here? We find ourselves with many unanswered questions, most of which will probably never be answered in this lifetime; so, we continue to work daily at placing our trust in God. Trusting, (especially when we might feel it the least), in the knowledge of his perfect love for each of us, and trusting that while we don’t understand why he chose this path for Benji and our family, his ways are ultimately best. Our lives of caring for Benji, which for the last several months consisted of living with a nearly continual rollercoaster of intense emotions, has come to an abrupt halt and we’re left floundering a bit. We (Allen and Cindy), moving back into the community and being back home together as a family is a good thing, but is also an adjustment for each of us- all in different ways. Obviously, doing so without Benji creates an additional, painful dynamic. We all love each other and are committed to each other as a family unit, but each one of us will need to feel our way through this time as we readjust to life together at home and in the community, and begin to learn a new “normal” while grieving the loss of Benji at the same time. Again, we could use and would appreciate your prayers.***
I wonder how long it will be before nearly everything I see and hear no longer reminds me of Benji. Or how long it will be before I won’t want to talk about him constantly? When will I be able to go through all his things we brought back from St. Louis? (I’ve been in his room a few times to find some things but I haven’t yet had the courage or felt ready to go through everything in there; we just piled it in the room and closed the door until we’re ready.) How long will it be till I don’t have a deep craving to see every picture and video of Benji that I can find- especially those from recent years, while he still felt good? When will I no longer think I’ve got to make sure he’s up or doing his treatment- first thing when I wake up or when we’re gone in the evening? Will the time come when we’re sitting on “our” loveseat in the living room and it won’t feel like Benji should be sitting on “his” loveseat, leaning forward while doing his treatment and talking, playing a game, reading a book or watching TV? Will I ever be able to see the Food Channel or watch Chopped without the deep pain I feel at not being able to watch it with him again? Or will I always feel like there’s something missing when the family rides somewhere together and we only need five seats? Will I ever be able to look at Jalen without feeling pain for his loss; a best friend and cousin of Benji’s, who came to our school this year, largely because of Benji, and then spent the entire year without him and never again will go to school with him? Will our family ever feel complete again? I could go on and on because as those of you who’ve experienced this must know- memories are EVERYWHERE and life goes on as it was before except… except everywhere we look something seems to be missing because one of the major players in our lives, whom we’ve loved so very much, is suddenly gone.
Our grieving has really only begun. My father, who lost his identical twin brother at the age of 18, said he recalls that it didn’t really “hit him” until about six weeks later. I wonder if that’s how it will be for me. At times, it still feels as if we just left Benji back in St. Louis and he’ll be coming home soon. Although when I do things like come across his toothbrush that we brought home from St. Louis- (the one I used to brush his teeth one last time after he died), I get slapped with the reality that we no longer have need for that toothbrush and throwing it away feels like putting a nail in that coffin of finality. Or seeing his basketball shoes and letter jacket that he got this year and never got to wear. Maybe, by grieving little bits at a time as I’m frequently hit with the reality of what is, I won’t ever be overcome with a sudden, massive realization of what has actually happened. However it happens, one thing I know is that experiencing the death of a loved one is just plain hard! And I certainly wouldn’t want to have to go through it alone and without a strong faith in God. As difficult as it is, at least we have the hope of a future. It really isn’t over- I will get to see Benji again! (And while it may seem like a long time for me- for him it may be just a blink!) ☺ 1 Thessalonians 4:13-15 describes it well:
13 Christian brothers, we want you to know for sure about those who have died. You have no reason to have sorrow as those who have no hope. 14 We believe that Jesus died and then came to life again. Because we believe this, we know that God will bring to life again all those who belong to Jesus.
Thank you Lord for this promise of eternal life!
Having spoken so much about our grief and sadness, I want you to know that while we have many times of tears and sadness, we also still laugh a lot; and our hearts, despite the pain, remain joyful. I don’t think we (including my extended family) know how to be sad all the time- we enjoy laughing way too much. :D
I’m going to close with the beautiful and so appropriate words to the song, Praise you in the Storm- by Casting Crowns. Whenever I hear it, it reminds me that God has never left our side and is weeping with us.
"Praise You In This Storm"
I was sure by now
God You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say "Amen", and it's still raining
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
[Chorus:]
And I'll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
And every tear I've cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm
I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to you
And you raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can't find You
But as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
[Chorus]
I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth
Blessings and love to you all
At the time we were given this devastating news, one of my first questions was if he would be able to be taken off the vent so we could all say our goodbyes. The doctors told us that was their hope, but they didn’t know. At that time, I was picturing Benji waking up (as he had in the past), but because he was vented he’d be unable to talk. I wanted him to have the ability to speak to us if he wanted to, not just us to him. Benji never woke up and later, after the boys were all there, we discussed whether or not we should have them attempt to rouse Benji or keep him sedated so he didn’t have to consciously deal with the realization that he was going to die. At that time, we all decided that while WE would like the opportunity to speak to him one last time and tell him goodbye, for his sake, we should probably not attempt to wake him. Looking back, I am soooo grateful he never woke up- not just for his sake, but for ours as well. The thought of having had to tell him the devastating news that he was not going to receive the liver in time, as well as having to look in his eyes and tell him goodbye and that he most likely only had a couple days left on this earth, is an excruciatingly painful thought! I think it would have ripped all of our hearts out. (As I was writing this, it occurred to me that based on Benji’s responses in the past, if we would have had to tell him, I’m sure he would have shed some tears but I expect his demeanor would have remained calm and peaceful. We all may have had a much harder time with it than he would have. Of course, we’ll never know the answer to that.)
Another thing I think about regarding those final hours with Benji and the decision we made whether or not to wake him, were his extremely high (and climbing) ammonia levels. The one reason I was uneasy about not trying to wake him was because of the chance he could hear and understand everything we were saying and though wanting badly to respond, couldn’t. Again however, because of the ammonia levels (the last result was 415), there’s a very good chance he was entirely unable to hear us, and even if he was able to hear, he probably wouldn’t have been able to make sense of anything we said. There is also a good chance that if he had woken up he would have been so disoriented he wouldn’t even have recognized us. I’m glad that is not my memory of our last waking moments with Benji and I do take comfort in the fact that chances are great he was able to slip peacefully away, without ever having to deal with the idea that he was going to die. We are grateful that though God chose to take Benji, he allowed him to slip away quickly and peacefully, and that we were all spared some of the agony we might have gone through.
Since Benji’s death, we’ve been asked (not in an accusatory way, but because it is a common response from people in our situation) if we struggle with questions regarding whether or not we had done everything we could for Benji. Gratefully, both Allen and I can say that is something we do not struggle with and feel confident that we did all we could do to fight for Benji’s life as long as we could. For 15 years, 3 months and 4 ½ days, we did everything within our power to give him the best care possible and keep him healthy and with us as long as possible. We had also been praying, especially in recent months- along with all of you, for God to heal and spare Benji’s life- IF it was his will; and we had continued to hope and believe that God’s will WAS for Benji to live. However, after speaking with the doctors on Monday evening, though we still welcomed a miracle if that was what God wanted to do, we believed we had been given the answer to what God’s will was, and that was not to continue Benji’s life on this earth. At that moment, our focus changed from saving Benji’s life to supporting him as he made the transition into eternity. It was about encouraging Benji (if he could hear us) to not be afraid of the unknown and to trust Jesus fully, to spend as much time with him as possible, to love on him as much as we could and to keep him as comfortable as possible until the end. And, for all of us who loved him so much- the process of grieving the tremendous loss we knew was coming, began.
The grieving began that evening; however, I discovered that there isn’t a lot of time to think about grieving immediately following a death. Especially one that is sudden. Yes, Benji had been sick for quite a long time, but we were by no means expecting to have to plan a funeral at that time. I remember the jolt I experienced when my Mom asked me if we had thought about where we will bury him. I lost it! Who plans where they’re going to bury their child? That’s not the way it’s supposed to work! (at least not to our minds.) The question Mom asked was only one of many questions we had to answer over the following six days. That was a rough week. So much “business” to do and decisions to make at a time when the last thing we wanted to do was “business”. I suppose it may have been a good thing we had to stay busy; otherwise, we may have simply crashed when we got home.
We returned home from St. Louis late Tuesday night and by Wednesday morning, we had our first meeting. Fortunately, we had friends and family to help us through the process of planning how we wanted to handle the viewing times and the memorial service. My dad, having been a pastor for 40 years was very helpful and the funeral director from Miller-Stewart Funeral home was awesome and was a great help as well! With the help of so many, everything over the weekend went very smoothly and while Benji would have hated being in the spotlight like he was that weekend, it was very healing to hear from so many people how much Benji touched their lives. Deciding on a theme for the memorial service was very simple; Benji’s computer password, “inChrist,” was a symbol of his faith in God and that became the central focus of the weekend. The memorial service focused on the message of being “in Christ” and was a beautiful tribute to Benji s as well. People who were a part of Benji’s life, and who knew and loved him gave the tributes from their unique perspectives. These people were his brothers, Aaron, Tyler and Cory, Sylvan and Connie Eash-his uncle and aunt, Anthony Troyer- his cousin, a school teacher- Beverly Eash, Karmin Henley- a classmate and good friend of Benji’s, and Dr. Michelle Howenstine, his pulmonologist from Riley for the last 9 years. All of them spoke about the things we all loved about Benji, and nearly all of them also spoke of his faith and love for God and how his life reflected that. It seems that “inChrist” has become a part of Benji’s legacy and we are discovering that in his short life, the way he lived out his faith in Christ, has touched the lives of so many people. Ultimately, faith in Jesus Christ is what really matters- it determines everything about us both here and in the afterlife. There is nothing more satisfying and comforting than to hear from someone how Benji (and the way he lived out his faith) personally touched their lives; and we’ve heard this from so many, including people who never knew him.
One of the things our sons (and others) mentioned in their tributes was how selfless Benji was and how he was often concerned about being a burden. This was something he didn’t express frequently however, I believe that feeling was constantly there for him and the times he did express it just broke our hearts! I spoke about the following in my February 25th journal entry. That night (the 25th) I was sitting by Benji’s bed while he was in a rather weepy state. He looked at me with tear-filled eyes and, in his whispery voice, brokenly said, “I….can’t…tell you…how grateful…I…am…to you…and Dad…for….putting…up …with me!” My heart broke and I of course assured him how there is no way we were “putting up” with him”; that there was nowhere I’d rather be than there with him. And, I wouldn’t have wanted to spend my birthday anywhere else. He wasn’t quite convinced but didn’t keep pushing the point and a little later, again with tear-filled eyes said in a whisper that was full of emotion, “Thank you!” :’( (Oh how we miss this boy!) At the memorial service, Aaron shared something that Tyler had written: “The only burden we are losing through Benji’s death is the constant desire to take his pain from him.” That was beautiful Tyler and I couldn’t have expressed all of our thoughts better!
My big disappointment that day was that we hadn’t set something up to make sure we knew who all attended the memorial service. We have record of each person that came through the viewing lines; however, there were a number of different doors into the sanctuary and relatively few people signed the guest book at the service. Because there were so many who had come to pay their last respects (around 700), and we left very quickly for the burial, we didn’t get to see nearly everyone. :( It would be so helpful if you could drop a note saying if you were there- unless you know that we know you were there. ☺
On the morning of Benji’s memorial service and burial, I decided I wanted to read to Benji from “Jesus Calling” one last time. We decided I would read at the burial and I chose to read a passage that I had read to Benji previously, and I think I read it to him that Monday night, during his final hours. The reading was from March 24-
“This is a time in your life when you must learn to let go: of loved ones, of possessions, of control. In order to let go of something that is precious to you, you need to rest in My presence, where you are complete. Take time to bask in the light of My love. As you relax more and more, your grasping hand gradually opens up, releasing your prized possession into My care.
You can feel secure, even in the midst of cataclysmic changes, through awareness of My continual presence. The One who never leaves you is the same One who never changes: ‘I am the same yesterday, today, and forever.’ As you release more and more things into My care, remember that I never let go of your hand. Herein lies your security, which no one and no circumstance can take from you.”
Isaiah 41:13 “For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.”
I didn’t know if I’d be able to make it through the reading but I was. When it came time to read, I felt the same strength rise up in me that I had felt numerous times over the last few months, when I wanted to fall apart but knew I HAD to pull it together in order to be there for Benji. Again, God gave me the strength to read to “Benji” one last time. Even though the body in that casket couldn’t hear me, (and I don’t know if Benji could hear us from heaven or not), as had happened so many times over the last month, as I read these words to “him”, they encouraged me. This time, they were an encouragement to all of us who are experiencing the pain of letting go of someone we love. They encouraged us to let go and place our complete trust in God; allowing him to carry us through this painful time.
I inferred above that the body in that casket wasn’t actually Benji. This is something we of course all know intellectually; however, I would have expected it to be more difficult for me to separate the two. When Neil (the funeral director) first opened that casket and we saw Benji’s body lying there, it didn’t seem like Benji; and I think each time I again viewed the body, I would think or say each time before walking away, “That’s not Benji.” Even now, (though this may change), when thinking about where we buried his body, I don’t feel a strong connection- because Benji is not there. Benji, the Benji we know and love, is actually with Jesus! As we drove away from the cemetery the day of the funeral, I told Allen and the other boys that I don’t know how I could handle it if I really thought we had left all there was of Benji in that hole back there. What a blessing and comfort to know he’s actually with God! I would just so love it if I had an actual image of what that looks like. Of course, from scripture, we get glimpses, and these glimpses are comforting; and many of the cards and messages we have received refer to them. I received a FB message from Pam Doughty that especially touched me, and continues to be a comfort to me. I’d like to share it with you:
“The wonderful thing about Heaven and eternity is that time there is NOT like time here. And if a day is like a thousand years, then Benji will have really just had a couple of minutes to look around.. to be swept up first by God, then by Jesus, and THEN by all of the saints who have gone before him.. in great big hugs. He will have looked around with eyes wide with wonder.. he will have experienced the amazement of the sweet smells, the incredible sounds... and then he will turn around and you will be there with him. He will never even have a chance to wonder where you are, because for him? It will be just a blink.”
Isn’t that beautiful? Thank you Pam!
We have been learning many things over the last couple weeks since the funeral. Things like what it means to grieve. And what it looks like for me is not the same as it is for Allen, or each of the boys individually. Not only are we learning what it means to grieve; it is intertwined with learning to adjust and re-adjust to life as a family, in the community and with our church family- and doing so without Benji. Following is a paragraph out of a letter Allen and I wrote to our church family.
***We would also like to share with you where we find ourselves in a more personal way. Where do we go from here? We find ourselves with many unanswered questions, most of which will probably never be answered in this lifetime; so, we continue to work daily at placing our trust in God. Trusting, (especially when we might feel it the least), in the knowledge of his perfect love for each of us, and trusting that while we don’t understand why he chose this path for Benji and our family, his ways are ultimately best. Our lives of caring for Benji, which for the last several months consisted of living with a nearly continual rollercoaster of intense emotions, has come to an abrupt halt and we’re left floundering a bit. We (Allen and Cindy), moving back into the community and being back home together as a family is a good thing, but is also an adjustment for each of us- all in different ways. Obviously, doing so without Benji creates an additional, painful dynamic. We all love each other and are committed to each other as a family unit, but each one of us will need to feel our way through this time as we readjust to life together at home and in the community, and begin to learn a new “normal” while grieving the loss of Benji at the same time. Again, we could use and would appreciate your prayers.***
I wonder how long it will be before nearly everything I see and hear no longer reminds me of Benji. Or how long it will be before I won’t want to talk about him constantly? When will I be able to go through all his things we brought back from St. Louis? (I’ve been in his room a few times to find some things but I haven’t yet had the courage or felt ready to go through everything in there; we just piled it in the room and closed the door until we’re ready.) How long will it be till I don’t have a deep craving to see every picture and video of Benji that I can find- especially those from recent years, while he still felt good? When will I no longer think I’ve got to make sure he’s up or doing his treatment- first thing when I wake up or when we’re gone in the evening? Will the time come when we’re sitting on “our” loveseat in the living room and it won’t feel like Benji should be sitting on “his” loveseat, leaning forward while doing his treatment and talking, playing a game, reading a book or watching TV? Will I ever be able to see the Food Channel or watch Chopped without the deep pain I feel at not being able to watch it with him again? Or will I always feel like there’s something missing when the family rides somewhere together and we only need five seats? Will I ever be able to look at Jalen without feeling pain for his loss; a best friend and cousin of Benji’s, who came to our school this year, largely because of Benji, and then spent the entire year without him and never again will go to school with him? Will our family ever feel complete again? I could go on and on because as those of you who’ve experienced this must know- memories are EVERYWHERE and life goes on as it was before except… except everywhere we look something seems to be missing because one of the major players in our lives, whom we’ve loved so very much, is suddenly gone.
Our grieving has really only begun. My father, who lost his identical twin brother at the age of 18, said he recalls that it didn’t really “hit him” until about six weeks later. I wonder if that’s how it will be for me. At times, it still feels as if we just left Benji back in St. Louis and he’ll be coming home soon. Although when I do things like come across his toothbrush that we brought home from St. Louis- (the one I used to brush his teeth one last time after he died), I get slapped with the reality that we no longer have need for that toothbrush and throwing it away feels like putting a nail in that coffin of finality. Or seeing his basketball shoes and letter jacket that he got this year and never got to wear. Maybe, by grieving little bits at a time as I’m frequently hit with the reality of what is, I won’t ever be overcome with a sudden, massive realization of what has actually happened. However it happens, one thing I know is that experiencing the death of a loved one is just plain hard! And I certainly wouldn’t want to have to go through it alone and without a strong faith in God. As difficult as it is, at least we have the hope of a future. It really isn’t over- I will get to see Benji again! (And while it may seem like a long time for me- for him it may be just a blink!) ☺ 1 Thessalonians 4:13-15 describes it well:
13 Christian brothers, we want you to know for sure about those who have died. You have no reason to have sorrow as those who have no hope. 14 We believe that Jesus died and then came to life again. Because we believe this, we know that God will bring to life again all those who belong to Jesus.
Thank you Lord for this promise of eternal life!
Having spoken so much about our grief and sadness, I want you to know that while we have many times of tears and sadness, we also still laugh a lot; and our hearts, despite the pain, remain joyful. I don’t think we (including my extended family) know how to be sad all the time- we enjoy laughing way too much. :D
I’m going to close with the beautiful and so appropriate words to the song, Praise you in the Storm- by Casting Crowns. Whenever I hear it, it reminds me that God has never left our side and is weeping with us.
"Praise You In This Storm"
I was sure by now
God You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say "Amen", and it's still raining
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
[Chorus:]
And I'll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
And every tear I've cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm
I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to you
And you raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can't find You
But as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
[Chorus]
I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth
Blessings and love to you all
