The Privilege Of Pain

On March 12th, 2021, my younger brother Chris passed away.  I have to tell you the ache in my heart is more than I can put into words. 

The how, when, and where of his passing compounding the pain by ten-fold. The loss felt in every fiber of my being and the weight of it heavier than I could have ever imagined.

His death required my family and me to sift through his life and belongings.  We gladly took on the task of serving him one last time.  

As we sorted through every article of clothing, shoes, home decor, bedding, papers, and personal belongings, it was as though we were walking through his life and the pain was both intensified and soothed.

Every moment in his home a reminder of his life and his death.

There was laughter and joking as well as breath-taking, heart-wrenching sobs and unstoppable tears.

There was the sharing of stories, and personal memories silently enjoyed only by the one who had them.

There were surprises in how different his life was as an adult and surprised how much it was the same as when we were kids.

Every moment, every possession of his, we touched a reminder of his life and his death.

Many questions were answered, and in their place, three more would arise.  Often there was a meeting of the minds as we try to put the puzzle pieces of his life and death together.

In conversations, we referenced his life in both past and present tenses as our minds struggle to accept the reality of the future; The pain of forcing ourselves to speak in past tense a reminder of his life and his death.

New value was put on old things, and value was stripped from other things.

What seemed important during his life was no longer important after.

The constant, nagging, and swirling what-if thoughts a painful reminder of his life and his death.  Both equally as painful to reflect on.

As I float back and forth between reality and the denial of his death, I can’t help but examine why the pain is so crushing.

Why does this hurt so bad? 

How can an emotion be felt physically, a feeling so strong it leaves me physically weak?  How am I capable of loving someone so much?

There are days when I want to run from the pain, push it down deep, ignore it and move past it, but there is also a strong pull to embrace it and feel all of it even as I feel like I am drowning in grief.

I have concluded that mourning someone is the last step of loving them.  Without love, there is no mourning; without love, there is no hurt; without love, there is no pain.

Mourning the loss of my brother isn’t a burden, but a blessing.  It reminds me of how much I love him, how much I valued his life, how much I will miss him, how much of my heart and mind he occupied.

Mourning my baby brother is a final act of love.

I keep coming back to the question of how I am capable of loving him this much. He didn’t earn it, ask for it or pay for it.  I gladly gave it to him freely; it was involuntary; it’s as if I was born with this love for him, and to separate it from me would be like separating light from the sun.

Even though he made decisions that hurt me, worried me, kept me up at night thinking about him, and brought pain into my life, I still loved him.  Loving him makes it possible to remember all the good, fun, happy, carefree, and loving moments we shared and he lived.  It helps me appreciate the totality of his life instead of the ending.

How is this possible?  

There is only one explanation. God!

On my own, I cannot love the people in my life the way I do. I am not capable of loving someone, especially when it’s hard or hurtful. On my own, I am not capable.

But, God.

I am made in the image of God. God created me to love and be loved just as He loves and is to be loved. 

I am hardwired to love through the good and bad because He loves through the good and the bad. 

God created me to see the best, push others to their best, look past where they are to where they could be because God sees the best in me, He pushes me to be my best, and He looks past where I am to where I could be.

I love because He first loved me.

Nowhere in the Bible does it say that love would be painless; in fact, we see that the greatest act of love came with immeasurable pain.

God gave His Son to die for me, and Jesus gladly sacrificed His life for me.

Jesus endured rejection, betrayal, disbelief, torture, and the cross; He gladly embraced the pain of loving me.

It was never an option not to die for me. He never ran from it, hid from it, or refused; He embraced the pain and cost of loving me because not loving me was never an option.

He gladly gave His love freely; He is love, and to separate Him from it would be like separating light from the Son.

I love because He first loved me!

Today, I am comforted by knowing that loving my brother so much that losing him is almost unbearable is possible because God first loved me.

I am grateful that I have the privilege of loving my brother Chris and that I grieve, cry, hurt, and feel the weight of loss. I am thankful for the gift of love.

I am so grateful for God’s assurance of His love during this time and I’m thankful for the opportunity to share His love with you.

As I walk through the steps of grief with my Savior I am leaning on and LEARNING from Him.

As I learn from Him, I will continue to share it with you because as I always say, “what we learn today we teach tomorrow.”

Love ya,

Nichole