How else but through a broken heart may Lord Christ enter into it?

"How else but through a broken heart may Lord Christ enter into it?" - Oscar Wilde

I miss her.  She was my salve for daily sores.  Even while ill, she comforted me.  Just her presence was a security.  I miss her humor, smile, gentle presence, strength, and impeccable character.  I miss having my best friend to speak with whose integrity I could always depend on to guide me if I was confused about a situation.  I miss my best friend who would talk me down from my trees.  I miss her calming presence.  She could make the toughest situation feel doable.   I miss having that person in my life whom I trust completely... who would never lie to me, deceive me, or abandon me.  She was my rock.  But, she did abandon me at no fault of her own.  I found out just how human she was.  Her body gave out despite her fighting so hard.  All that I loved and depended upon vanished with one last strained and quickened attempt to breathe.  It was so surreal... she was instantly "gone".  How would I ever have guessed that the beautiful, striking, glowing, strong, radiant and charismatic woman I saw would through a door 10 years prior would be laying in bed a shell of her former self taking her last breath in such a compromised, weakened state. 

There will never be another Amy in my life.  Yes, everyone was unique, but Amy was an outlier far from the bell curve.  And, everyone who knew Amy agreed.  She was one of a kind.  I am so grateful to have been with her for close to 10 years.  So blessed to have that kind of love in my life.  Real love.  I don't think most people ever get to experience the type of love that feels so safe, exhilarating, secure and healing.  I was always excited to go home to see her.  We had fun when she felt well.

I try and foster gratitude but I'm also trying to acknowledge all I went through.  And, as the Psalm above illustrates, the grief and experience I endured have caused my "eyes to grow weak"... the sorrow has prevented me from seeing joy or hope.  The sorrow has altered the lens through which I see everything. My vision is faulty.  My soul and body have likewise grown weak and tired.  I feel spent and exhausted a great deal of the time.  I feel older and slower.  The sprite and energy which I always had are absent.  I had looked to Amy for many years as my source.  She was my everything.  God was always in our relationship, but Amy was tangible, flesh and blood and a joy.  I am now forced to look for and to God.  I am in a situation where I realize I cannot heal myself.  No person can heal me, and if they could I understand their fallibility as they can be so swiftly taken from this life.  I'm powerless against this grief and my own ineffective ways are dominating.  I am trying very hard to lean on God, surrender to God and listen for His direction.  It's very difficult to let go of myself during this time.  Hard to fall into God's arms when I'm not sure where they are.  For many, the voice of God seems silent during grief.  Part of me knows this trial and hardship is not in vain... there is an amazing opportunity for me to know God better and establish in life a source which will not abandon me.  I will see Amy again and I have confidence she sees me through her perfected lens of peace, health and the joy of God whose arms she rests.

 "Be merciful to me, LORD, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and body with grief.  My life is consumed by anguish and my years by groaning; my strength fails because of my affliction, and my bones grow weak."