A Wrinkled Note

Recently, on a quiet afternoon, one of my children shyly handed me this note which they admitted they had written a few years back. Apparently, paper and pencil in hand, this child had tried to sort out their feelings and after jotting down their thoughts, had stuffed this paper back into a notebook, where it lay forgotten about all this time.

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After I smoothed out the wrinkled notebook paper and read this dear little essay, I could do little other than take my hurting child into my arms and try to embrace away the pain. I was overwhelmed again with deep sadness as well as with a revelation:

If we, as adults, can’t understand or comprehend a suicide death, how on earth can we expect our children to make sense of it?

Part of enduring my son’s death has not only been processing my own pain, but watching the deep grief that each of my children endures because of this sibling loss. Although it has been almost seven years since they lost their brother in a terrible and confusing way, the sad empty spot in their hearts will always be a scar that’s not quite healed.

Yet, how it cheered my heart to read the sibling loyalty penciled on this simple note:

I love you so, so very much. I will not love you less.

I echo the well-written sentiment! Never has my love for my son been diminished by the manner of his death. I, as well, could never love him less.

It comforts and pleases me that my son was so well-loved by his siblings.

In fact, these siblings — my nine living children — are wonderful and courageous people. Because of our family’s tragedy, they are amazingly sensitive and full of compassion for all people. I find myself longing for each of my children to experience an extra helping of joy to make up for the pain they have endured. I wish for each of them to have a cluster of loved ones who will loyally stand beside them and embrace them during their greatest joys and deepest fears. Mostly, I pray that each of my children will feel the love of Jesus during their darkest hours and remember the hope that His promises give.

May you, too, know great joy and feel His light in the darkness.

Suzy