Everything was in the same place, everything appeared to be ‘normal’.
I walked down the stairs of my house after I heard gunshots. I turned the corner only to see smoke, everywhere. I looked around to see where it possibly could be coming from. I found nothing out of place. It was like the house was mute; all I could hear was the water trickle from the kitchen sink. There was a glass of water and remnants of the blueberry bagel from his early morning breakfast. The curtains swayed ever so slightly, allowing a blanket of cool air to sweep over my body. I walked over to the mud room and opened the garage door only to find more stillness. I called his name, no answer. Silence.
I walk down a hall of never-ending doctors, nurses, patients, machines, and flickering red lights. I keep my eyes focused on the door at the end of the hallway. It is guarded by unfamiliar faces with sympathetic, despairing expressions. My stomach turning, hands sweating, body tense, I walk past them and open the door. I see my father’s hands covered in blood, his bloody sneaker, his bloody ripped jeans. Once again, I feel a rush of cold press over me, instantly taking my breath away, making me speechless. I start to feel a knife wrenching in my stomach.
I look down at my dad as his trembling hand reaches for mine.
“Sweetie, he didn’t make it. Bryan, he’s dead.”
The knife pierces through my heart, cracking it in half, and shattering it into a million pieces. Tears begin to flow from my eyes. Screams and cries come from my mouth. I am drowning in an incessant hurricane of emotions that won’t let me escape. I am held captive; I can’t break free.
Later still, I walk down to another room, holding onto my twin sister’s hand, tightening my grip, blinded by tears. I press on and walk through to a catacomb-like room. The ceilings are low, the walls are made of grey brick, the lights are dim, and the air is cold. I approach another door and see more faces,; though this time one of the faces is my brother’s. The one with twinkling blue eyes. The one with bright, strawberry blonde hair. The face that used to be covered with an endless amount of freckles is now covered with a bulk of red and white bandages, disguising his fatal decision.In disbelief, I stand there looking at him, lifeless.I fall to my knees, terrified of how I was going to live in a world without him.
Three years and 2 months later, I have come to peace with the cards that I have been dealt. I now perceive this obstacle that has been tossed at me as a new pair of glasses to look into. I see with enhanced perspective. I am no longer blinded by the hurt, fear, doubt, and pain. I have learned that in everything there is beauty. The dirt that stains your white t-shirt and ruins your brand new pair of sneakers can also grow beautiful flowers. I no longer see the ghastly dirt that covers my brother’s grave, rather I see nourishing, replenishing, angelic dirt that shields my brother’s honorable life. I see a hand- crafted stone neighbored by blooming flowers, dancing vibrant fall leaves, and frisky little creatures and insects. I make friends with them.
I walk beside the marble tombstones down the dirt road, rolling my shoulders back, lifting my chin up and tilting my nose down. The sun brings me comfort and warmth as I face the future. I smile with confidence and do not fear; though the earth may fail and the mountains may give way, I pick up my glasses and run with hope toward opportunity.
This past month was my older brother Bryans birthday, he would have been turning 21. Bryan’s death is something that has flipped my world upside down, there has been so much heartache, struggle and pain beyond comprehension. Though, God has redeemed me and has brought so much healing to my heart. I’ve experienced incomprehensible joy in the midst of my greatest pain. Jesus has shifted my view on life, on people, on Him as a father. On the race I’ve been able to ask God questions, hard questions about Bry’s death and have been so angry at God, something that I am not familiar with. However, at the end of the day I truly do stand firm on the truth that God’s love is unfailing and he is in control of everything. I would not be here, sitting in Africa partaking in this amazing experience if God didn’t shift my view and preceptive on life. I love how God can literally take me, my broken pieces, and do such a beautiful exchange with them.
It brings tears of joy to my eyes knowing that these new pair of glasses I own are ones from my brother and this new lens I get to see out of are from my Father.
