Wake Up and Smell Reality

“Wake up and smell reality, it’s not all you thought that it should be.” I have been listening to this band, AG Silver, a lot in the past few weeks, and this song sings loud and true to me right now. Reality is death. How ironic is that? The irony being, something that is real in our world is death. Death is real. Death is reality. This seems like an oxymoron to me. How can death be real, when something real is something alive? I am trying desperately to grasp the reality of death, and the truth that reality is certainly not what I thought it should be.
I spent the last couple days tasting grief. The grief in IA is so thick; I ate it at every turn. It’s so horrifically painful to watch the reality of grief. On Saturday night, I went to a party at Jeff’s house. His family was having a huge bonfire, and they wanted my family to come. I was touched that they would want me to be there. As soon as I arrived, there sat my aunt, uncle, and cousin who just lost their daughter and sister. They sat intermingled with Jeff’s parents, and friends. The entire circle around the fire was a group of people aching from the inside out. Not to mention a little black lab puppy running around…Holly’s very own “baby” who no longer had her “mommy”.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, I went over into the garage, to find Jeff playing ping-pong with his best friend. Seeing Jeff’s wedding band on his finger made me want to vomit. Holly placed that brand new wedding band on his finger but only 6 short months ago. I could feel Holly’s absence as strongly as if her absence was a tangible object. I wanted to cry all the time. How are these family members surviving each day?
How do they go to the bowling alley week after week, with Holly’s name still up on the score sheet, and her name still proudly displayed on the board with a high score? How do they go to church week after week without her? How do they sit through the service, when weeks ago Holly’s casket adorned the front of the room? How do they lay in their beds at night with the sadness, agony, and her loss dwelling so painfully in their hearts, minds, and souls? How do they go out to lunch without her, everyone knowing full well that Holly is missing, but if feels like she will walk in at any second? How does my aunt get out of bed every morning with her best friend, and only daughter gone, knowing that all the other mothers at work will receive phone calls from their daughters, but she won’t any more? How does Jeff go on living, when his life and all his love were wrapped up in his precious wife, who no longer remains on earth? How does Eric go to school and concentrate when his only sister has been tragically killed? How does Uncle Tim work day after day carrying the burden of his only daughter being gone, along with his hurting family?
It’s true. Reality is, we do not mourn like those who have no hope. We have full hope and assurance that Holly is with our God. We rest in that peace and I know some people do not have that. Holly did. Holly knew God, and now she dwells with him. But, the rest of us? We mourn, we weep, we wail, we cry for our loss. We ache for our Holly.
Today I said good-bye to my mother and grandmother. Both of who are experiencing enormous amounts of pain. I drove away from a sobbing mother, and into the cemetery where my precious cousin’s body lay. Her grave was decorated so nicely with fall flowers- orange, red, yellow, and green. I stood there staring at them, knowing it was my aunt who placed them there so delicately. I sank to my knees and cried. Cried for her loss. Cried for Jeff’s loss. Cried for Uncle Tim and Eric’s loss. Cried for Holly’s remaining grandparents. Cried for her remaining family and friends. My tears dropped into the dirt of my cousin’s grave today. My tears along with so many others. That is the reality that I smelled today.