Life and Grieving

I do not function well around people that are mentally retarded. Partly it is because my older sister has a small disability that developed because of oxygen deprivation when she was younger and ever since then she has had trouble learning...she wanted to go to college but wasn't able to...so instead so works at the same place my mom does (Blue Cross and Blue Shield) in the mail department.

I say that to bring up a part of my high school experience. When I started doing weekly Wednesday morning meetings at school there was always one guy who would always show up, regardless of whether or not anyone else did (including my close circle of friends) a guy named Thomas, who had a severe mental disability. When he was a young child he had drank some sort of cleaner and it almost killed him and so he had trouble talking at times but he had this ridiculously strong faith that he always shared with those around him and more often then not made me realize how shallow mine is.

It hurt to see him, to talk to him and hear him speak because it showed my own inability...my pride, my addiction to attention...how I needed people to pay attention to 'my' message...and it's not like Thomas realized what he was doing...to him it was just as natural as knowing when to leave class because of a bell ringing.

Anyway...like I said, he would always be there on Wednesday mornings, regardless. We were in the same grade as well. I don't know how he could understand the love of Christ except to say that he saw Jesus face to face in a way I barely understand and don't think I'll ever understand. No matter how hard I've tried to stop this I can't help but try to measure my success by quantity and how many people were at any given meeting or heard me speak...just this part of me that isn't bad necessarily but a part of me that misses the entire point at the same time.

The last time I saw Thomas was in the spring of 2007, the night before my grandmother's funeral, at the wake. He was brought there with the grandmother of a cousin of mine who use to be my best friend. I have never dealt with the loss of my grandmother and still keep trying to repress it and hold things back...the grief terrifies me...but of all the things I remember about that horrifying week was Thomas and my cousins grandmother coming up to me. The little old lady hugged me and like most southern ladies had this air of understanding about her...and I can't remember what she said but I do remember what happened next. Thomas, who is almost as tall as I am, walked up to me and hugged me and said that he was sorry...but everything would be okay because my grandmother was with Jesus right then.

I have no idea how I held myself together and didn't break down sobbing right there...but I did. I honestly hate when people talk about death and Jesus. I don't want to hear about how she or my dad is 'with Jesus'. I've never been good at dealing with loss of any kind...of having parts of me just ripped away...its a feeling that I think may be universal but tangible and paramount only to those at any moment of time...in other words we all may know what this feeling is like but it is a burden a person has to suffer through alone and something they can't be helped through. They have to choose to walk forward or allow the grief to smother them.

There is only so much we can know and that we can learn about life...but here we are. Belief and faith are not as much as something a person can choose...but He finds you...and will not let you stay where you are...and once you are His, He won't let go...no matter how hard you fight to hang onto these scraps of a life that no longer have any meaning.

Luckily blessings aren't just for the ones who kneel.

Luckily.