I didn’t want this day to come. But here it is. Your heart has been shattered into a million pieces and I stand here watching, helplessly, but I can not put it back together.
You think I don’t understand–that I don’t feel exactly what you’re feeling. But I do. I have had a broken heart and I remember. And maybe I feel it even deeper. Because not only have I had a broken heart, the kind where you have to work just to breathe and honestly, it hurts to be alive, but now I have to watch my child endure that kind of pain. It’s a sort of double whammy.
You’ll know one day, but as a parent, we would give our whole world to take the place of our child’s suffering. Whether it’s a harmless virus or a world-shattering break up, selfishly, it would be easier for us to bear the pain than to watch you do it. And there is the wonderful, awful part of being a parent: to love like you’ve never loved, and hurt like you’ve never hurt.
I could tell you all the things that are true: one day you won’t even think much of her, your heart will heal, and you’ll be so glad things worked out like they did. But right now not only would you not believe me, but it wouldn’t help.
In the solitude of my bedroom and my car, I cry. No, I sob. And grieve. And plead with God to take away your pain. But there isn’t a thing I can do. Frankly I didn’t see this coming–this indescribable hurt from seeing my child so broken.
You’ll have to work through it, my child. There is no way around suffering. But I promise that suffering is not wasted on God’s children. Lean into His arms and trust Him. Feel yourself growing in the soil of agony. Hold on, do the next thing, and know that I am walking this awful road beside you.