I wouldn’t have made it after Sam’s death if it weren’t for the man of the cloth that I knew who came to my house that fateful day and told me “All is well with Sam” and all will be well with us in time, too. I was never in my life more thankful for the words of wisdom that day and in the days that followed where I tried to reason with what was not reasonable. In this time there were those from my church whose efforts spoke loudly in my heart… an amazing young girl singing most beautifully to my heart at Sam’s funeral, a scrumptious chocolate cake especially for Nick from his youth leader’s caring touches, a church funeral dinner and then the numerous times I showed up with questions to be considered, prayed upon and answered through what He provides.
My anchor in the midst of a drastic storm that took Sam from me at 16, overnight in an episode of experimenting with drugs with friends like young minds do albeit it was deadly for my son. Now never to touch or feel him alive again. My pastor was there throughout and made what was unbearable, something beyond my breaking heart could endure, a tiny preview forward one heartache at a time.
I’d like to say that I returned to church regularly but there was nothing regular after I lost my son. Going back to church on Sundays was more like returning back to the scene of where I last left Sam. The church service itself provided memories that tears were easily shed for.
Just like Sam leaving I never imagined, after Sam dying, I never imagined my church would change. But it has. My pastor has retired. Today is the youth leader’s last day. I reflect again that I’ll forever miss what was, be grateful for what shall be and thankful for the light shown to me on this journey.