Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Dear Family Friend,

I've known you for my entire life, but I don't really know you. When I don't know what to do, I write. I obviously don't know what to do.

I don't know how to help.
I don't know what to feel.
I feel far away, when I desperately want to be close.
I want to be home though I know it wouldn't help much.
I want to rewind the years.
I want this to make sense.
I'm sorry.

When I called my dad this morning, he cried and quickly got off the phone. I cried too. When I told him, "I'll keep the family in my prayers," I meant it. My usual reply to hardship is, "I'll be thinking about them today," because I want the word "prayer" to mean something. Today it does. But maybe it is the utterly confusing, disoriented times in life when prayer finally makes sense to me, when there's just nothing else I can do.

So I'll pray.

"To whom it concerns(God, the Universe, to whoever is listening):

We're hurting. I'm not feeling half of it, but I'm feeling something and I don't know what to do with it. Do I cry? Do I scream? Do I drive home? Do I throw things? Mostly, I'm shocked and I don't know what to do. That's why I'm praying. That's why I'm petitioning in hope that you can handle this situation better than I can. I don't know what to do about death. There are no easy answers and it hurts when I try to seek them out.

I'm praying because I know helplessness. I know powerlessness. I know grief. Not steady or comfortable traveling companions, but there all I've got right now.

Be close. Be visible. Be near.

That's all I've got.