Loss

Kurt and Brent, Havasupai, 2008

Something rubs my eyes with sandpaper.

Something burdens my shoulders with a load of lead.

Something holds my chest tightly so I can catch only shallow breaths.

Something chases my thoughts so they skitter around without a resting place.

My previous visits with this something have hardly been pleasant, but THIS something, this current grief, is raw and harsh and powerful and torments me in waves.

..........

Last night at 10:40, I was folding clothes on the couch with David, watching So You Think You Can Dance.

Josh was off to his first three-night backpacking trip, so the house felt a little more empty than normal. Ben and Kate were finally asleep. Sophie was feeling hot and came out to beg for the fan to cool down her room.

The phone rang. It was my mom and dad. David said, "This is a little late for them to be calling."

I answered, and Dad said, his voice cracking, "We have some sad news."

I thought maybe something had happened to my sweet 93 year old grandma.

But he said, "We lost Brent today. He was caught under a waterfall at Havasupai."

And the world stopped. Just like that.

I couldn't speak. I could only wail. Mom said, "Give the phone to David." So I did. And Sophie came over and started to rub my back and hug me. I couldn't hear what David was saying. Ugly, ugly grief grabbed hold of me and wouldn't let go.

..........

My brothers Brent and Kurt had a special love for the Havasupai reservation, and I will admit I was jealous EVERY TIME they went. It's a hidden treasure at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, with pristine waterfalls and pools. They'd been looking forward to this trip for months. Four of them hiked in on Sunday and another group joined them yesterday.

From what I understand, they were hanging out in the water, jumping off rocks, talking, taking pictures, and then Brent wasn't there anymore. They searched for him. They didn't know what had happened to him. And then someone found him.

After Brent was found, a helicopter came to take him away. Kurt had to get to the village of Supai to call my dad, and then hike out with three of his friends, friends who have given so much of themselves to my sweet brothers that they should be adopted into our family. I am forever grateful that Kurt had them surrounding him through this horrible horrible time.

..........

I wanted to have lots of pretty words to say about my brother. They will have to wait. This is not the time for pretty-ness.

Do I have faith in the plan of salvation? Yes. Will I see Brent again? Yes. Does this take away the bone-crunching grief? Maybe it will in another few days, but for now I'm wearing it like a concrete vest, not by choice, but by fact.

There are sweet moments of rest. Speaking with my family and dear friends. Playing the piano. Loving my babies.

And there are moments when the reality of this crashes down around me.

I must also say, while I should hardly be shocked at the outpouring of love from so so SO many, I am. I'm greatly humbled by your love, by your kindnesses, and by your prayers. I am so very grateful. Thank you for loving Brentie and for loving us. Your prayers have helped us and will continue to help us. I remember a time in my life a few years ago where I felt the prayers of others supporting me like an actual web of love. The physical power of prayer is real. I know we need it now and will continue to need it. Thank you for offering it.

I miss my good, sweet, smart, handsome, kind brother. I MISS him.

Kate said, "It would be great if Jesus would come again tomorrow so we would only miss Brent for one day."

Yes, Kate. Yes, it would.