Forty years ago, August 29, 1978, was
the worst day of my life―the
day my eight year old daughter, Alden, died from injuries sustained in an
accident.
I was no stranger to personal loss. I
remember as if it were yesterday one Tuesday afternoon in late November when I was
a graduate assistant football coach at UGA. I was making final preparations for
practice before the annual Georgia-Georgia-Tech freshman game when Coach Erskine Russell came in the office to tell me my father, only forty-seven years old, died of a heart attack.
At twenty-three, I was not prepared to live without my
Dad, but I felt I needed to be strong for my mom. I played the tough guy role,
pushing beyond. Then, my mother died seven years later after a short battle
with cancer.
The death of my daughter was different.
This was my child, my first-born, a special delight in my life. This loss was a
deep, dark hole from which I thought I would never again see the light of joy.
The pain was so bad I wanted to die, but I had a wife and a younger daughter who needed my support. I could not fold up and quit. The gumption, which came from athletic training
kept me moving, but it was not balm for my soul. It did not illumine my
darkness or heal my hurting heart. It only kept me moving.
Two years to the day after my daughter’s
death, August 29, 1980, my best friend died in his sleep. He was only in his
forties. At the same time, my marriage failed and I felt very alone, my dark
hole had gotten much deeper and darker. On a bridge behind my home, I met with my friend Jim and asked him how much pain must I
endure before God would let me die. Jim told me God loved me and on that same
day, August 29, I prayed a prayer of surrender with Jim and asked God to help
me live again. After we said Amen, in an instant of time, I felt joy I had not experienced
in two years.
From these experiences, here are things I learned in recovering from and living with devastating loss.
1.
Remember and celebrate the one you’ve lost. I failed to do this at first and it made things worse. I took
pictures of Alden down and felt guilty for ignoring the fact she lived.
2.
Allow yourself to grieve. I didn’t. We have to go through the process of grief.
It is easier if we cooperate with the process. A good resource for this is Good Grief by Ganger Westberg. The book
helps us understand what we’re going through and not get stuck in any stage of
grief.
3.
Don’t Blame God. I was quick to blame God, when I had not given Him the time of day for
over a decade. I knew things about Him, but didn’t know Him. If I had, I would
have known God is not the author of death but of life. Assessing blame toward
God separates us from our only hope of healing.
4. Don’t Blame
Yourself. Most of us try to blame
someone. If we don’t have a good prospect, we’ll probably blame ourselves. Even
if we are guilty of some judgment lapse, we make mistakes, which brings us to
the next point.
5. Forgive. We must forgive everyone, everything, if we want to
be free and appropriate God’s power to help us live with loss.
6. Humble
Ourselves Before God. When I prayed
that prayer of surrender, I asked God to give me the faith of a little child.
My younger daughter, Mari, and I were driving from Laramie, Wyoming to Denver
to fly home the day of my best friend’s death. I couldn’t stop crying, and Mari
would wipe the tears from my face with my handkerchief and say, “Daddy, don’t cry, now
Alden has a friend in heaven. “ I wanted that faith and in an instant God gave
it to me. Death was losing its grip on me as I surrendered myself to the one
who overcame death.
The next morning I got out the pictures of Alden and
began to celebrate her life and remember the good times we shared. I cried, but
this time, they were tears of joy. Now, I not only believed in God, I believed God,
so I began to see my loss as temporary. We will be together again, and friends
that’s the hope that keeps me going and gives me joy.
The Key to Everything has just released as an ebook. Available HERE.
A key can open more than a door.
A story of forgiveness.