Although I knew it was physically impossible, I started to second guess whether you could implode and die. I felt like my inner being was building pressure – had been building pressure for quite some time – and there was only a thin covering, bulging at the seams, that was holding it in. It was threatening to give way at any moment.

I didn’t know what was going to happen, I didn’t know what to do. And yet somehow you still have to keep on going. You’re a mother – you don’t have any other option. Get up, put one foot in front of the other, and keep on moving. You don’t dare slow down because you know you may never get back up.

Just that morning it took you 20 minutes to pull yourself together enough and build up mental energy adequate to start your day. You just wanted to die. Was it possible to just disappear? Maybe? Hopefully?!  But no, you’d be living this out again hour by hour, day after day. You knew this time was coming but couldn’t expect what you didn’t know. You had no idea what “dark” actually meant. You had no idea what “difficult” really entailed.

But there was no use crying about it. Tears don’t come. You think you’ll melt – melt into nothingness – but nothing gives way. And you’re still there – the lump in your throat grown so big that you can barely breathe, but the tears just sit, dormant, not daring to flow. Not yet. You know when they come, they’ll come in torrents. But even then, what that looks like, you have no idea.

 I stood still and closed my eyes – something had to happen or I would break. Break into a million tiny pieces that could never be put back together. I listened – listened for the voice of hope and truth, because I knew it was there. I didn’t have to feel it, because I knew it. It was up to me to enter the quiet and listen.

I heard Him whisper “It’s going to be ok”. Are you kidding? “I know it’s going to be ok!” I scream inside my head. “What defines, Ok? Bleeding out slowly but surely, yet you still contain viable life so you’re still Ok? How about a terminal illness that is taking over your body, but your body hasn’t shut down yet so you’re still Ok?” Can you define that for me?” My silent screams are louder and longer…what did He mean? 

“I’ve got you” He whispers as I see a vision of Him wrapping His arms around me “and I won’t let go”. Tears start to flow as the words to my life song from several years back, came flooding in…

“I will stand by you

I will help you through

When you’ve done all you can do

And you can’t cope

I will dry your eyes

I will fight your fight

I will hold you tight

And I won’t let go”

I knew of a surety, no matter how much I hurt or how long the pain lasts, He had me and He wouldn’t let go.