TO DO: Write about "The Gathering"

I’ve written about a lot of things surrounding Noah’s death.
I wrote about the phone call that rocked my world
I wrote about seeing his coffin for the first time
I wrote about facing his dead body
I wrote about carrying him and burying him
I wrote about a lot of things
and the feelings and sounds that accompanied them...
but there is one thing I haven’t dared
to put on paper:
the last thing that is required of me
to write about.

On my list it says, “The Gathering.”
The gathering together of my family
the morning after Noah’s death.

There are probably many reasons why this
paralyzes my fingers
and causes the shields around my heart to raise
in a stubborn, protective hardness... 
but mostly I think it is simply
the immense multiplication of pain
that accompanied this necessary coming together.

It is one thing to confront your own losses;
to feel the shattering inside
and the piercing pain of what was loved
ripped from you
dislodging pieces that you will never get back...
but it is another thing all together
to come face to face
with the others you love who did not leave you
and to look into their beautiful faces
at the realities of crushing sorrow
unimaginable pain
crumbled dreams and hearts.
There is a helplessness that washes over you
and grips your throat so that you cannot speak
as you hold onto them,
one by one,
unable to heal or rescue or revive
without the strength to move the stones that have fallen upon their shoulders
whose jagged edges have penetrated the soul
and knocked the breath from within.

My husband drove me home
(home will always be where my parents are).
I left the car and walked into the silent house
not quite knowing what I would find inside.
On the table sat a picture of my Noah,
dressed to the T in his Air Force attire,
beside it stood a vase of flowers
denoting sympathy.
I walked into the living room
where the members of my family had begun to gather
and someone stood to embrace me.
It was like I had finally reached a safe place
to release the wave of sorrow that had welled up in me
in the time I should have slept the night before.
One by one
I looked into their beautiful faces
our sadness and brokenness colliding for the first time
causing us to fall together into an embrace that held the other up.
One by one
I looked into their beautiful faces
and the weight of their shattered worlds
met the weight of mine
with deep understanding
that allowed us the freedom to crumble.
One by one...

The 9 of us arrived over that Sunday and Monday,
though mere months before we had been scattered across the country,
God had brought us all in varying measures closer
simplifying the logistics of togetherness for us.

I found my feet to be heavy
as if weights kept them from running to meet
my loved ones as they arrived;
knowing the pain I would find in their embrace
would cause my heart to overflow yet again.

But finally the gathering was complete
and we sat together in heaps around the living room
we had grown up together in
and spoke of the newest gaping hole we had to face
and the wonder of the boy man who had filled it.
And though the coming together
was a pain unlike others I have known
the peace of each others’ presence was enough
to nourish my shattered world
with the promise of healing and
the reality that we did not sorrow alone.

And sometimes that is enough
for the moments
that paralyze my fingers
when my mind thinks upon them.

I love you all,
my Papa
and my Mama
my Abigail Ruth
my Joshua Michael John
my Jacob Olaf
my Nathanael Martin
my Naomi Anne
my Rachel Helen
my Eve Elizabeth
my Samuel Andrew
I would gladly walk with you
through any fire
that you would not have to walk alone.
I will gladly share in every sorrow
that must flow across your beautiful faces
and will forever be grateful
that you are willing to share in mine.