What Makes You So Strong?
When people hear my story the words, you are so strong, follow without fail. Uttered so frequently they have cadence, marching rhythmically in much the same manner my family did as they passed away, year after year. Remaining, I stand firm upon a blanket of hope tightly gripping memories, fearful any release might cause them to dissipate just as radically as my loved ones’ physical presence. I have cause for weakness. Losing my whole immediate family within forty months would justify psyhological bankruptcy. The hideousness of death’s institution is enough to drive one to their knees. And frankly, that’s precisely what it did.
I do not have it all together. Most mornings I spend battling incessant thoughts before my feet even hit the floor. I struggle. Daily. Grief’s warped sense of humor plays occasional tricks during optimistic moments. It rears its treacherous head with resolve, determined to douse flickering happiness. My smile easily masks the pain. The gloom couched in optimism. And grief is ever flirting with the little piece of sanity I have left. A careful study of my eyes reveals what my lips often won’t. I miss my family. A longing so heavy within I feel its physical manifestations. Chest pains, palpitations, squeezing and tightening. It’s an enormous multi-layered agony. I can’t make sense of the chaos, so I concede to its torture, opting to ride its ebbs and flows squarely.
Refusing to buckle at the enormity of grief’s weight, I dredge up the courage from deep within. Courage that carried me to and through my family’s sickness, suffering, and ultimate demise. The courage that’s kept me standing for decades when the world wasn’t watching because you knew nothing of my hidden scars. Nearly a life’s worth of silent suffering that developed fortitude. I am strong. But this strength comes at a colossal cost, of which I am determined to redeem.
My strength is embedded in every fiber within. Strength revealing unto strength. Like the peeling of an onion, exposing its strongest aroma the closer you get to its core. My strength made perfect from traumas and trials that reduced me to my knees. Strength that is in me, through me, with me and for me. And it is this very Strength, that makes me so strong.
What makes you so strong?
God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.
– Psalm 46:1-3
