The Scarlet Tide
September is almost over and October is in view. This is my favorite season. For some reason, I have always had more hope and energy during the Fall. The smells, the sounds and temperatures remind me of my college campus, my seminary apartment in Chicago, studying and writing, walking to classes and meeting up with friends for study groups! These are joyous memories. They lift my spirits and remind me that opportunities are bountiful!
I am burning my Autumn Blessings scented candle as memories and emotions flood my amygdala! And then Allison Kraus’ haunting voice reaches my ears as “The Scarlet Tide” plays on my iPhone. The saltwater builds over my eyes and eventually overflows, trickling down my cheeks. The tears come, one after another.
The phone rang and we paused our festivities .
Quickly, I am taken back to a warm Autumn day (well, actually it was almost Winter, but it felt like Fall with the bright sun shining down). I had just sat down to Thanksgiving Dinner with my in-laws, sharing our annual list of blessings before digging into the traditional entrees at the center of the table. The phone rang and we paused our festivities. My father-in-law, Mike, jumped up to answer it. After a brief “hello,” he came back to the table to get my husband. Together, they went outside with the phone. Then Mike came back in and resumed his seat at the table. We all turned our heads toward the patio door, waiting for Aaron to rejoin us too. When he did come in, he asked me to join him outside. I noticed the phone was no longer in his hands. I was starting to wonder and worry. Once outside, he invited me to sit down. He then bent in front of me and gave me a hug, whispering “I love you…”
“…your sister is dead.”
I dropped my head back and screamed. I wailed. Everything inside me told me to run. Get up and run! If you run, it won’t be true.
My father-in-law later told me he had never heard a sound more agonizing, like a response to torture. He knew my heart was broken. My intellect didn’t quite get it. But my body didn’t need to be told twice.
My grief was extensive and pervasive.
On November 27, it will be the fourth anniversary of my sister’s suicide. The first couple of years to follow are a bit of a blur. My grief was extensive and pervasive. So much so that my 3 year old daughter took on my pain and sadness. My husband felt my anger. I was confused all the time. I watched my parents become shadows of themselves. My nephew went through the motions, tossed to and from his dad’s and grandparent’s homes. My sister’s new husband put on a good face for the world. Somehow I managed to start a new job, tap into leadership gifts I never knew I had and walk my young daughter through such an innocent sadness. I did it all while mourning one of my best friends and confidants. I went through grief counseling, scribbled in my journal and put one foot in front of the other.
With my favorite time of the year, comes the memory of the worst day of my life. This Fall, like the 3 years before, I will awkwardly try to balance them both. Isn’t this the nature of life? Of faith? Of love? It isn’t as black and white as I have described above. The range of emotion covers a large swath of gray. I am all over the place, and in the whole space at the same time. Sadness, grief, anger, joy, encouragement…hope.
These words from my brother’s funeral (yes, he died too) bubble up,
For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:38-39, NRSV
For many years, this was my lifeline. It was the only Scripture I could believe and lean into.
Today, I am still clinging to the Apostle Paul’s words of promise. Over time and through healing, God’s Word encompasses far more than 1 lifeline. But on days like today, the scents, sounds and tactual imagery of my favorite season give me no choice but to go to my knees and repeat these words over and over again, “nothing will separate me from the Love of God in Jesus….not even death, not even grief.”
The leaves will fall, the temperatures will drop, the sun will begin to hide, and my heart will remember the heartache. AND at the same time, I will be jubilant, dream of the possibilities and step in hope.
