No comments on more statues at the cemetery on a rainy afternoon
Author: guinever
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it used to be just a day
now it's the day
you died
alex
i woke up in the night
the veil had parted
for just a second
a swirling
crashing music
heart racing
warmth
hope of heaven
november 19
the day to go sit there
early
before the sun is up
to collapse on the pavement
i barely made it there
and sob
using all the kleenex your baby nephew pulled out of the box last night
wondering how he pulled out so many in 2 seconds
to take a deep breath
and sob again
this november 19 is gray and cold
the clouds so thick and heavy,
the sky is hidden
it's different this time
before i was numb and frozen
with no tears
now the tears fall
i would have stayed longer
but the cold sidewalk stole the warmth from my body
even though i wore four layers,
including the gray flannel and gray coat
that were yours
i gathered my pile of tissues
and walked away
away into the mist to continue another november 19
to go home
home
this house where you grew and flew
where you visited
first a little, then a lot
always welcome
wish you didn't have to leave us
wish you could have figured it out
november 19
a day to listen
to the beauty will rise album
on repeat
and then to listen
to anne wilson music, this time her local concert at the opera house
i wrote a letter to your brother
to the cemetery
of course
the walk to your grave was wet
and the rainwater soaked through my shoes making my feet cold
the path strewn with
leaves of all colors and sizes
and pine needles
both fresh green and old brown
and pine cones
your stone had raindrops on it
i liked how it looked
the rain looked like tears
also at the stone was a cigarette box
whose scent still lingered
somehow
in the air
the person must have been here not long ago
november 19
confusing
it will always seem like a sunday
but somehow every sunday
seems like the day you died
in the early morning
when i'm alone
at the kitchen window
even though it's been two years
wish you were here alex
wish there was never a november 19, 2023 -
At the end of September, I went to the Abbey of Gethsemane near Bardstown, KY with my coworkers. This staff retreat had been planned for months. We started with a quick devotional, and then split up with plans to meet for lunch.
Several of us headed toward the statues. This walk took us through the forest which included uneven ground, steep steps, and a wooden rope bridge. Every once in awhile there was another sign about the statues, reassuring me that I was on the right path. Even though I was following someone who knew the way, I still wondered if we were going in the right direction. There were small garden statuary (think gnomes, angels, and saints) along the way and I wondered is this really all there is to “the statues?” I hadn’t done any research, so I didn’t know what to expect.
The path led us outside the trees into a clearing where a stark white statue of a lady loomed large in contrast to her surroundings. Etched at her base was “Regina Gethsemani.” Her angles were harsh, the style seemed modern. Someone had draped a rosary on her praying hands. Beside her was a small sign that said, “pray pray pray. ” In front of her was a rock for sitting and the tree beside her featured a swing.
I kept walking. The path turned back into the trees and there was a dark life size stone statue of three people lying down, draped on each other. They appeared to be sleeping. As I was trying to figure out what it was, I looked to another statue nearby. Then it became clear. These were the disciples sleeping in the Garden of Gethsemane while Jesus prayed.
And when Jesus came to the place [called Gethsemane], he said to them, “Pray that you may not enter into temptation.” And he withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, and knelt down and prayed, saying, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.”
And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him. And being in agony he prayed more earnestly; and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground. And when he rose from prayer, he came to the disciples and found them sleeping for sorrow, and he said to them, “Why are you sleeping? Rise and pray that you may not enter into temptation.” Luke 22:40-46
After the walk in the forest, I went into the chapel a little early for the scheduled prayer. Long before the entrance to the building, there was a sign about being silent past a certain point. When I got inside, I grabbed one of the booklets, found a seat, and read the psalms.
A monk, dressed in a robe with rope belt around his waist, walked slowly to his seat; he was hunched over and with each step, his cane touched the stone floor loudly. His cane was the only noise that I heard in this stone sanctuary. Other monks came in much more quietly. The chairs for the outsiders and visitors like me were slowly filling too. As I waited, the silence grew and hugged me like a cold blanket.
The vigil was only 15 minutes long. These Trappist monks, who have dedicated their lives to prayer, work, and silence gathered in this stark sanctuary seven times daily, the earliest being 3:15 am. When the 15 minutes were up, they filed out in an orderly fashion, disappearing out the door where they had entered only minutes before, the thud of the elderly monk’s cane breaking the silence again. They were off to eat lunch, and so was I.
After our picnic, my coworkers headed toward their cars. I had opted not to carpool in case I wanted to stay at this retreat longer into the afternoon. I’m glad I drove alone because I wasn’t ready to leave. There was one more spot I wanted to go on this warm September day.
I looked past the parking lot, past the road to the cross on the hill. It seemed so far away. The path seemed steep. Could I walk there or would it be too difficult? Someone who had been there himself told me it’s actually not that far.
at the foot of the cross
It’s a lyric to a song. At the time, I couldn’t remember what song or any of the other words, but this phrase had been running through my head for weeks. It was accompanied by a line from another song: Jesus will meet you there. I had changed one word and said “Jesus will meet me there.”
September had been hard. Really hard. I wanted to go sit at the foot of the cross to pray.
I started walking toward that cross. As the ground started to incline, my breathing quickened slightly, but the way was not as steep as it had looked from across the road. Before I knew it, I had reached the foot of the cross. I thought it was distant, but it turned out the cross was closer than that it had appeared.
As I sat, “Jesus will meet me there” ran through my thoughts again.
I stayed in this spot for a couple hours. The sky was the most gorgeous blue with fluffy clouds. I was particularly enchanted by the yellow and golden butterflies chasing each other nearby.
Here I sat at the foot of the cross where grace and suffering meet. (I looked up the song, and that’s the full line.) I came to this place to sit in silence. To sit in nature. To ask the questions that don’t have answers. To pray. To meet Jesus.
The definition of Gethsemane is a place of great mental or spiritual suffering. I had been experiencing my own Gethsemane, and today I found myself at a literal Abbey of Gethsemane. The things that made September hard were–
- suicide awareness month and everyday seeing another article about preventing suicide
- wondering if I could have somehow prevented Alex’s death
- Charlie Kirk’s murder
- Voddie Baucham dying too
- my son being unreachable and all the unknowns about him
- a third hospitalization for my dad this year
- another family member’s hospitalization after a car accident that miraculously didn’t take her life
- the anniversary of my mom’s death
- the upcoming pregnancy loss awareness month that was hitting me extra hard this year
- November and Thanksgiving on the horizon and therefore, the 2nd anniversary of Alex’s death
- the progression of my husband’s cancer
In the midst of grief and heartache, I’ve been choosing joy this year. I brought with me a rock with the word “joy” painted on it and I decided to leave it at the cross. The backside of the cross was filled with trinkets and flowers that others had left there.
September was a lot for me to carry. I’ve been praying more and reading several devotionals–some that I chose for myself and others were given to me by friends. One of the books I’m reading is Your Soul To Keep, a prayer book for praising God as you pray for your adult kids, by Kristy Dusenbery. I love the introductory section–it just confirms everything I was already experiencing through prayer.
The habit of prayer has become important because it connects us intimately with the God of the universe and we find peace in his presence every time. Prayer invites the Holy Spirit to unleash perspective; perspective that reminds us that we can survive whatever life throws at us.
Perspective. Taking one day at a time. Somehow surviving September. I know I didn’t need to come to a special place to pray, but it was nice to be able to do so. And my takeaway for the day is the cross is closer than it appears.
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It’s cold and the sky is gray and white. If I had taken these last weekend or even yesterday, it would have been sunny with a blue sky. I wanted to capture the Fall colors and I think I did that even though half the leaves have already fallen.
I also scattered petals on the graves from the All Saints’ Day flowers from church from last week.
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I was tired and crawled into bed. The light was still on and my eyes stopped short on my ring finger. The diamond was gone. And not just the diamond, but the whole top was missing, prongs and all.
I had been wearing this thing for over 33 years, gotten the prongs rebuilt a few times and even had the whole head replaced less than 2 years ago. The jeweler had told me it wouldn’t be as strong as the original ring. But 2 years? I had gotten it inspected since then. How does the whole top of a ring just fall off?
I went to the living room and told my husband and 19 year old son not to vacuum or take out the trash because the diamond was missing off my ring.
The 19 year old said, “Mom, do we ever vacuum?”
Seriously, though, I thought, what was the last thing I did? I opened up the dishwasher because I had just filled it. I could see a plastic baby spoon on the bottom of the dishwasher. I thoughtlessly reached for it and burnt my middle finger on the heating element. Thankfully, I keep a small aloe plant by the sink for such a time as this.
The next day, one of my coworkers said, “I hope you find it, not just because of the cost, but because it’s sentimental and irreplaceable.”
I started to cry. I had already been thinking that this was just another loss. Just another thing that doesn’t even really matter in the grand scheme of life. Temporal and earthly. My ring is not a person, it’s not eternal. It doesn’t even matter.
I was upset about losing the diamond, but thought “Whatever. What next?”
I had been retracing my steps in my mind and decided I really needed to go through the kitchen garbage because cleaning the dishes was the very last thing I had done before going to bed. You know how the sink drain catches all the food and you bang it on the side of the trash to empty it? I thought maybe that vigorous motion could have caused the top of my ring to go flying.
When I got home, I lifted the trash bag out of the garbage can and placed it onto the kitchen counter and carefully took out each thing.
When I got down to the bottom where the potato peels were and the little bits of food gunk that had been caught in the drain while washing dishes, I saw it.
There it was mixed in with last night’s dinner scraps.
I couldn’t even believe it. What are the chances that this tiny diamond could be found in the bottom of the trash?
I instantly felt loved and cared for by God. It almost felt like I lost my ring just so God could show Himself in the details.
How much was this going to cost to fix? Property taxes are due in a couple weeks and we’re saving everything to go toward that hefty bill. I decided to wait to get a couple estimates.
But then that friend from work who told me she really hopes I find the dismond, told me her son-in-law who is a master “bench’ jeweler offered to fix it for free. What?!?!
Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?
Matthew 6:26
Again, I’m feeling loved and cared for by God and grateful that I don’t need to write off my diamond as just another loss.
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I’m hanging in there. I’m grieving my oldest two sons. Both are unreachable. One is unreachable because he died. The other is unreachable because his mental state is cloudy and dark, and he’s out of touch with reality. He’s also unreachable currently because literally I can’t call or write him or visit him. But I know that he is sheltered, relatively safe, being fed. He is not well, but his physical needs are being tended to, even if his mental and spiritual needs are not being met.
This year I’m choosing joy. It’s an effort. Grieving the loss of a loved one is hard and long. Experts in grief say the second year is harder than the first and that’s where I find myself.
But even in the midst of great sorrow, I am purposely choosing things and doing things that make me smile. I spent the Spring on my hands and knees (thanks to a thick knee pad) digging in the dirt, planning and planting flowers that would attract butterflies. I spent the summer pulling weeds. So many weeds. Maybe next year there won’t be as many, Haha. The flowers were beautiful and I saw caterpillars, bees, moths, and butterflies.
This garden has brought me great joy. I’m creating joy. Choosing joy. Planting joy. Just because I’m discovering joy in some of the little moments doesn’t mean there isn’t a great heaviness and sadness in my heart over my oldest two sons.
How are you?
This question came at a time when I had absolutely no idea where my son was. Prior to this point, I always knew where he was, but these days were different. Essentially, I considered him missing and it was very difficult for me. He wasn’t in hospital, jail, or a group home.
The truth was– I was horrible, my insides were freaking out, my body was tense, my stomach felt nauseous. I would rather be in bed, but I had somehow gotten up and made it to church. I wasn’t great or even really ok, so I replied,
I’m hanging in there.
When I answered, this person backed up and said, “Woah, don’t unload on me!”
Here I was at church. Isn’t this the place where I’m supposed to be able to be honest and real and find compassion and support? Most likely, this person was being sarcastic, but man, did it sting. I’m thankful I have people in my life who get it, who will listen when I need to talk, who are encouraging to me, who don’t back away.
Since that day at church, I was able to find my son, and then a few weeks later, I knew he was locked up again. But he’s unreachable.
i can't call him.
he can't call me.
he can't receive messages.
he can't receive mail.
he's unreachable.
i'm praying for a miracle.
praying for the light to swallow the darkness
praying for his mind to clear.
praying for clarity of thought.
praying that he knows he is so loved
by me
by God.“I am the light of the world.
~Jesus (John 8:12)
Whoever follows me
will not walk in darkness,
but will have the light of life.”praying he'll be reachable again
praying his spiritual needs will be met
praying that his mental needs will be met
praying I can reach him
praying he will reach out to me
healed
in the meantime, I'm hanging in there
and I'm choosing joy -
Thanks so much for journeying with me and supporting me. I don’t want to lose these texts and emails in response to my last post so I removed your names and put the responses below.
Thank you for sharing friend.
Praying, grieving, rejoicing,
anguishing, hoping and
trying to rest in God’s
infinite and unfathomable love and mercy
while remembering you,
your son and family.
Indeed he is the 1 in 99.
A lost and wandering,
yet beloved and missed lamb.
Love you friend
Thank you for sharing your writing about your son. It was so raw and real. You are a great writer and what a beautiful way to express your pain and emotion!
Big hugs.
I'm honored to lay eyes on your piece about your son, friend.
I believe with you!
Nothing is impossible for God--
He does indeed leave the 99 to find the 1.
I believe that for him and pray for his rescue.
Praise Him for sustaining you,
giving you peace...
and for using *your* testimony
to challenge assumptions,
comments, and faith.
I'm so thankful for your friendship. 🤍
I sure do love you–and your grief is never forgotten. But I do wait in hope and faith with you. There is *nothing* beyond hope and redemption with our God.
Guinever, thank you for sharing such an intimate and emotional time in your life! I am happy to hear you did find him! I have been praying for him, for you each day🙏 I will continue to pray, for his healing, for him to feel God’s love and to feel and know how much you love him🛐 You have a beautiful talent in your writing and expressing your thoughts, your feelings!
Thank you for sharing this, Guinever. I believe with you for him. I honor your mother heart, your disciple heart. The life of Jesus is more real to me because of you. He gives so much reason for hope!
Bless you, friendThank you so much for sharing. It is heartbreaking but a beautiful testament to your walk with the Lord. We will continue to pray for you and him.
Oh Guinever Thank you for sharing this. Wow. I’m praying with you for his restoration and return. I admire what you did in finding him!
My heart aches for yours, Guinever. I love you and pray for your precious son and his family who loves him so much. I’m so glad you know the peace that passes understanding. ❤️
Those are words that obviously come from a deep well of a mother who has found her rest in God. Thank you for sharing your heart and I’m so glad you were able to lay eyes on him. ❤️
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not all heartbreak comes from death
not all loss is etched in stone
not all dreams are buried in a cemetery
i'm a mother of five
two in heaven
two alive and thriving
one alive but greatly burdened
that man on the street corner
muttering and shouting
pacing back and forth
talking in rhymes
swearing
crazy
not a stranger, he's my son
six years like this
some have said to me
"at least you have..."
STOP IT
stop saying that!
do i forget this one who's still alive?
this second of five
this one
didn't the shepherd leave the 99 to find the one
he rescued the one
my man child is that one lost lamb
please lord jesus
rescue your lamb, my lamb
i'm begging, pleading
this one
who i carried
birthed
nursed
protected
nurtured
schooled
just like the other four
loved
still love, will always love
no matter what
he's my son
an image bearer of the creator god just like you who dare to say to me "at least"
this loss
it's real
these shattered dreams
everything i thought he'd be
no specifics
just sanity, just normal
for six years
mind overtaken by illness
triggered by trauma
extended by weed
made better with medication
worse again by bad choices
in and out of psychosis
stable at times but only for a little while
sometimes progressing, but always another setback
nightmares and voices
never silent in his head
mind in turmoil
so much distortion of reality
delusions
six long years
i used to think he's taking a detour in life
but the detour keeps getting longer
further away from normal
he used to call me
several times a week
just to check in
i've always known where he was
good or bad, I knew
because he called
but this year his calls became fewer
yet i still knew where he was
locked up
refusing medication
on a watch
and i knew where he was
mostly safe
3 meals a day
sheltered and clothed
safe
but july 31 he walked out
physically free
but mentally in shackles
this release was unexpected to me
there was no plan
for 6 years, there's always been a plan
a new place for him to go
but july 31
he walked out
no phone, no money, no contacts, nothing
i prayed
do i run to find him?
i prayed for wisdom
i prayed for my next step
i prayed for him
i prayed for his safety
i prayed for others' safety
this wasn't an adult
stable and employed
earning and managing money
living a productive life
deciding to cut off his parents
estranged
no this is a man
suffering
severe mental illness
unable to care for himself
unable to approach someone and say
can i borrow your phone?
i made calls
lots of calls
looking for him
checked rosters online
always praying
i was at peace with staying home and waiting
days turned into a week
then one week turned into three
and still no word from him or about him
where was he?
dead or alive?
sane or insane?
was he ok, but choosing not to call?
unlikely
really unlikely
did he stay close to where he flew free?
or was he walking hundreds of miles to his childhood home?
was he safe on someone's couch and being fed?
then i drove to where he had walked free
six hours i drove
i rolled into a town where i had never been before
i implored the lord, please i want an answer this weekend
i need an answer
i prayed for my own safety
guided by the holy spirit
i saw him saturday
and talked with him
his answers were evasive
i gave him food and clothes
after only a few minutes he said he wasn't having the conversation and walked away
his shoes had holes
his sweatshirt grimy
hood over his head and covering his eyes
so much thinner than before
i had found him
unwashed
i was thankful, so thankful
finding him was a huge answer to prayer
i went back on sunday
he asked for food and i gave him some
he turned around and walked away
walked away from love and help and nurture
refused my hug
and so i began my long drive home
alone
but not alone
because father god was with me
had not forgotten me
holy spirit had clearly guided my steps
so that i could see my son
thank you!
i was relieved
his condition did not surprise me
frankly, he looked how i expected
unkept
his life isn't over yet
i will always have hope until he's dead
there's still time for redemption
repentance
restoration
wholeness
normal
but for now
i wait
so much waiting already
everyone says they don't know how i do it
doesn't scripture say
peace that passes understanding??
that's what i have in god
peace that i don't understand either
i should be having a mental breakdown
but instead i'm able to rest in him
don't get me wrong
i am anxious at times
overwhelmed
but i couldn't do this without scripture
and prayer and feeling god's love and presence
i'm continuing to pray for a miracle
a complete healing
in jesus name, my son can be healed
he can reach down and grab him out of this pit
heal his mind
this amazing mercy that my son can
not run from
i firmly believe that god can deliver my son
from this mental anguish
and my son can run to jesus
out of darkness
resisting the things that trigger illness
for now, his mind is loud
voices always
no silence no relief no joy
no light
always darkness
praying for light and joy and peace for him
come home to us
be a part of our family
we love you so much
we miss you so much
we want you back
Response to this post has been so encouraging to me. You can read them here.
grieving with guinever 