The valley of grief

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. Psalm 23:4

The room is eerily quiet. It’s my day to keep vigil. The monitor shows the numbers. The numbers scare me. Tubes and wires hang like webs over the bed.

I hold her hand and sing “What a Day That Will Be,” “He Touched Me,” “The Goodness of God,” and a few other old hymns we’ve sung for over 60 years. Those hymns tell the story of our Faith. She moves her lips as I sing, and I believe she is singing with me. She cries. I wipe tears as I sing.

Barb, Kathy, and I accepted Jesus Christ as our personal Savior when we were little girls in the Nazarene Church at 10th and Grant Street. We have the promise of Heaven, where there will be no more tears, no more sorrow.

Our Faith has always held us close to God, and to each other, when life knocked us to our knees. Today I feel the brutal knock. Faith doesn’t always give us the answers for which we pray, but it holds us close to the Good Shepherd. He holds us in our pain. God, could you hold us a little closer today?

The presence of God is real as I sit in the ICU at St. Vincent Hospital. There is a sacred presence in this room. The words to those hymns hug my heart as I wipe tears. I recite the Lord’s Prayer and the 23rd Psalm as I hold the hand of my friend.

As I sing, all my life, you have been faithful. All my life you’ve been so, so good, my heart is shattering into a million pieces. Yet … I truly believe in the Goodness of God even when life hurts me to the quick of my soul.

I can’t explain Faith. It’s just so much a part of who I am. I have questioned God. God holds me even when I question Him. I don’t fear death. I have the promise of Heaven. My friend has the promise of Heaven.

This is hard. The valley of the shadow of death is a place where I never want to go, but life gives me no choice. The shadow hovers, and grief is entering the room.

The family gathers to say their “see you again” in Heaven. This is a sacred moment. We pray. We sing. We recite the Lord’s Prayer. Grief settles in as our hearts break. I’ve been blessed to be considered part of their family.

In a few short weeks, we’ve heard the words leukemia, remission, and now sepsis. Sepsis is the equally evil twin of leukemia.

I grieve for all of us who will miss having her in our lives. We have more songs to sing, more meals to be shared, more laughs in which to cackle. I want more.

Grief overshadows all my thoughts. Time seems to keep me in a vacuum of uncertainty. I can’t process how life will be without my friend. She’s been a part of my life for over 60 years.

Grief is pressing hard on my chest. My heart physically hurts. This nightmare will not soon pass. I can’t wake up from it. This is a valley I’ll never get used to going through.

I won’t have to worry when I reach the other shore; all my troubles will be over, and I’ll rest forevermore. My eyes will be on Jesus, and my heart will be aglow, and I won’t have to worry anymore.

Those are the words to the very first song the Three of His sang at the Nazarene Church over 55 years ago.

The Three of His are now the Two of His. I’m going to miss my dear friend, Barb.

The veil of Heaven is opening, and my friend is falling gently into the arms of Jesus. I know she is hearing God say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant. Your work on earth is done. You ran your race well, my child; you’ve run your last mile. Welcome home.”

And now the tears spill.

Janet Hart Leonard can be contacted at janethartleonard@gmail.com or followed on Facebook or Instagram (@janethartleonard). Visit janethartleonard.com.