Giving Thanks

I’ve always felt uncomfortable with the displays that are erected at the scenes of fatal car accidents. I’m sure you’ve seen them. Along the side of the highway. There might be a cross with flowers, notes, and other tokens of love. I don’t really get it. Why memorialize this one horrific moment that robbed you of a loved one? Do you really intend to revisit this place that represents the worst pain and suffering this person ever knew? It appears that people do. Those flowers look fresh. Those stuffed animals, brand new. I’ve always thought, Those poor stuck survivors! This is no way to mourn your loved one! The saddest moment revisited over and over. Who would do that to herself?

Imagine my surprise the other day when it hit me that I’m one of those poor stuck survivors. I’ve found myself returning over and over to what we now know to be the saddest time of Jay’s life, the hours and days just before he died. Although I haven’t erected an actual shrine, I do keep going back there, resetting the scene each instance I return, freshening up the flowers as it were, keeping that memorial in my mind nice and tidy. Why do I go there? Why do that to myself?

I can’t really explain why except that, apparently, it’s an age-old human tendency, a trap that has ensnared many of us. Maybe we’re stuck in our loss. We can’t really accept it until we make sense of it? That final place, whether it’s along a highway or in our memory, represents the greatest mystery that anyone who’s ever faced sudden tragic loss must confront: 

Why did this happen? 

What exactly went wrong? 

If he’d (or if we’d) zigged rather than zagged, would everything have turned out differently? 

If I go back just one more time, maybe I will finally understand.

The Book of Psalms offers a poignant expression of this persistent pain throughout its pages. When you’re stuck in sorrow, these words resonate:

I am worn out from sobbing.

   All night I flood my bed with weeping,

   drenching it with my tears. (Psalm 6:6)

I am weary with my crying out;

   my throat is parched. (Psalm 69:3)

I am comforted to have found words that capture what I am experiencing. I’m grateful they are written down for me to pore over now. But while Psalm 6 and Psalm 69 accurately articulate my deepest sadness, it’s Psalm 143 that took me a little by surprise and prompted me to take a new perspective. Although the psalmist utters a dark and heartfelt lament in verse 4:

I am losing all hope;

   I am paralyzed with fear. (Psalm 143:4)

 He moves on to a sentiment not often expressed by one who suffers:

I remember the days of old.

   I ponder all your great works

   and think about what you have done. (Psalm 143:5)

Wow. What a wonderful reminder.

When I read this, I hear, “Cry if you must, but don’t let your misery overshadow the memory of all the gifts God has given you!” It’s true. I have to remind myself that we have enjoyed so much in our life. Tim and I have a long and strong marriage. We raised a beautiful boy who grew to become a remarkable young man. We continue our lives as parents to two incredibly special girls. There has been so much joy in our life as a family and there is sure to be more in the future. We have God to thank for all of that.

This verse also reminds me that Jay’s life is far more than his final moments. I need to step away from the pain of that time and remember the days of old, ponder the greatness of the gift from God that was our son. Jay was special. He left an indelible mark on our family, in our hearts and in the hearts of so many others. His life deserves to be celebrated.

It’s not easy to do, to let go of the pain and replace it with shouts of thanksgiving. I can’t say that I will accomplish that feat entirely. But I will endeavor, whenever I’m tempted to revisit the anguish, to remind myself instead of Psalm 143:5 and turn my attention to the countless blessings that God has given us in this life. He deserves our thanks and praise! And Jay deserves more from me -- not a rehashing of his darkest days, but instead a celebration of his brightest moments.

That is why we’ve installed a bench in honor of Jay, in a place he loved, where he spent numerous happy days. It is a fitting memorial to visit again and again for quiet contemplation of the many precious moments we shared with him here on Earth. There we can reminisce about family memories, laugh and cry as we recall time spent with Jay throughout his remarkable life and mourn his absence from our lives now. Throughout it all – whether we’re rejoicing or lamenting – we must always remember the blessings we’ve enjoyed in this life. For all of them we will give thanks to our God, for he is good. His love endures forever.

Go Forth in Love + Remember Jay