The first snowfall of winter always fills me with joy. I love watching the flakes coming down, especially when they are large and so close together, my breath catches in awe. I remember how my husband used to shovel the driveway so I could easily get off the street when I came home from work. There are so many memories I hold in my heart and pull out from time to time.
The memories I’m pulling out now of my family members who have gone to Heaven make me very sad. I never realized how terribly heartbreaking it would be to write about the grief that follows death. Each day as I sit at my computer, I can’t hold back the tears as I share these emotions. Truly, my heart bleeds onto each page I write.
So, why am I doing this? I could stop. But I feel led by God to do this. There is a reason. Perhaps there is one person out there who needs to read my story. Or perhaps it will lead to another level of healing for me. Whatever the reason, it is God’s will and He always knows best.
I must limit myself to a small amount of time daily, for more than that leads me into a deep sadness. I’ve finished the first part of the book and am now ready to tackle what has been a deep buried grief I rarely let anyone see. The death of my son, my beloved child who decided to take his life. Dealing with a child’s death is terrible. Dealing with suicide is like having a knife cut you so deep inside you can’t heal.
Perhaps in the telling, I will find sense. I pray good comes from the words pulled from my grieving heart. I pray someone will be blessed and that God will direct the book into the right hands.