by Lexi Behrndt
Sometimes, life is about perspective, about the lens with which we view our stories and our circumstances.
In the world of parents who have outlived their children, we have to learn quickly about perspective. In order to truly keep living after the breath has left our children’s lungs, we are forced to choose the lens with which we’ll see their life, their story, and our lives and our stories when everything is seemingly broken.
This world of parents who have outlived their children— it’s both a heartbreaking and extraordinary world.
In it, you are in the presence of warriors, of men and women who have been given one of the most sacred tasks and missions. You are in the presence of men and women who were chosen, not chosen for pain, but chosen to be the only people in the world to parent their precious children. Parenthood, in and of itself, is a sacred task. It’s true. But parenting a child, parenting children, when you can no longer reach out and touch their faces, hold them in your arms, watch them grow, that is one of the greatest, most sacred tasks you can be given.
Out of every person in this world, you were chosen to be their parent. Out of every person in this world, you are the ones who were chosen to know them, better than anyone, to be theirs, to have your souls tied together for eternity. Out of every person in this world, it was you, it is you, and it always will be you.
We can choose to view our circumstances strictly through the lens of sorrow, of sadness, of pain, or we can look at it through a different lens, one that acknowledges the pain but doesn’t see exclusively through it. It notices the broken places, but it holds fiercely to hope. It aches and it hurts at times, but it holds ever more tightly to purpose, to good, to redemption.
You, your children, their stories did not end. They continue to be written every single day that breath is held in your lungs. This is your sacred task.
Their story is not over. We carry them. But listen here: your story, my story, our stories are not over either. No matter how much you wished you could have stopped breathing when the breath left their lungs, no matter how hopeless your life seems, no matter how deep down in the pit anxiety or depression or PTSD have taken you. No matter how weak, how small, how fragile you may feel, you are not.
You are brave. You are fierce. You have been given a sacred task, and you are the person for the job. Your story is far, far, far from over.
Few people in this world meet someone who so intricately and radically changes their lives simply by entering it. Few people have their lives split into such a powerful before and after. And while it may be so easy to look at our before and afters through the lens of deep pain and sorrow, you have been given a sacred gift: to know a love so pure, so raw, that it extends across world, through time, and death cannot even touch it. You’ve been given a sacred gift, a second chance, an invitation to never be the same from this point forward simply because they existed, you were chosen to be theirs, and you are tied together, eternally, your love a force greater than life itself.
You are theirs. They are yours. For eternity. Press on.
The author of this article is Lexi Behrndt a writer, photographer, blogger and bereaved mother based in Florida. To visit Lexi’ website “Scribbles and Crumbs” follow this link: http://www.scribblesandcrumbs.com
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