The Song of Sorrow

The past two weeks have been terribly difficult for me. The first and second day of May marked the 2-month anniversary of David's birth and death. As each new month begins, my soul is assaulted with the reminder of my precious David's painfully short life. Sometimes, I feel like it has been an incredibly long journey, and other times I feel like we just lost him yesterday. But mostly I just feel sorrow.

I feel like such a different person than I did a few months ago, and frankly, I am not too fond of the new me. Recently, I had an emotional breakdown when a close friend of mine told me that she is pregnant. Why? I wish that I knew. I am not really sure. For some reason, I just completely fell apart. It was as if a boil had been festering in the pit of my soul, and it suddenly burst open.

I used to be this really stable person who just let things "roll" off my back. I liked to think of myself as a shelter that others could depend on when the storms of life were closing in. Well, sorry friends, not anymore. Not me. Not now.

I feel a little bit like Emma Thompson's character in "Sense and Sensibility" (Elinor Dashwood). Throughout the movie, she is incredibly strong, though she is quietly bearing the heavy burden of a broken heart. However, at the end of the movie, she bursts into tears, crying uncontrollably. Her emotions finally get the best of her. This is how I feel, except that Emma Thompson's emotional outburst is endearing; mine is not.

People keep telling me that this struggle will change me for the better. I hope that they are right because I have yet to see the "better." Right now, I am just trying to figure out who this strange person is that has moved into my body because I do not feel like I know her very well. I recognize her voice, but she is singing a song that I do not know - the song of sorrow.

I am told that this song will begin to fade as time passes, but it will never stop playing in the background. As I stop and look at the world around me, I wonder how many others are singing this same song. I wonder why it is that this song is so unrecognizable. I remember hearing a line or two when my grandparents passed away and a few notes on occasion when listening to a tragic story. But now, I hear the entire song playing over and over again, and the tune is very different than I had imagined it to be.

I hope that as time goes by, the notes will slowly begin to sound sweeter. Yet, I know that the song will continue to be out-of-tune until the day that I see my Savior face-to-face. The wisest man that ever lived once said, "It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, because a sad face is good for the heart" (Ecclesiastes 7:2-3).

My sorrow feels dreadfully painful, and I admit that I do not understand how all of this pain could be good for my heart. But the other day my sweet husband reminded me that my Heavenly Father has "kept count of my tossings" and "put my tears in [His] bottle" (Psalm 56:8). What sweet relief to know that not one of my tears has been wasted. My Father has stored every one of my tears in His bottle, and He will use these very tears of sorrow to water my dry and weary soul.