No Word Comes Near Enough

The English language has its limits. I learned this when I became a student of the Bible and looked up the Greek and Hebrew definitions behind the Scriptures I loved. Some languages have so much more depth and power than the one I use to convey my thoughts. But, even so, I don't think any word could ever come close to describing this void and pain I am journeying through. I don't know how to swim through its murky waters.

So, of course, I am trying to make sense of something that humans can make no sense of at all, to learn to accept that which we would never willingly or willfully take on as part of our story. I'm trying to find my footing, my balance, my sense of self in this impossible task. I'm trying not to drown.

I looked for a word to describe the new me. I learned about the word, "vilomah" from the article below. Maybe defining myself might help? As I read, "People who have lost their parents are labeled “orphans.” Those who have lost their spouses are called “widows” or “widowers.” In its transformative power, grief carves these labels into people's identities.

I felt carved, alright. But would having a name truly bring transformation? No, not for me...not even with a thousand adjectives, adverbs, or metaphors to aide in the endeavor.

Vilomah, translates from Sanskrit to mean against natural order. When a child (no matter the age) goes before a parent.

But for me saying that God had allowed an injustice or a mistake of sorts, just didn't make sense for me, either. I've never been angry or disappointed with God's plans. His timing meant less suffering found in this life for my precious son. It just left me seeking a label so I could recognize my new reality.

So, I made my own word up. I'm an ampu-parent. Part of me has been removed. I once had four extremities in this lifetime and now I have only three. Whether it's only one leg left to stand on or arms that no longer reach fully around, I have been amputated. That is clear.

But I am one of the lucky ones, I suppose. There are other parents who have lost more children or only children. We all hurt. And there are no words that come near enough...I see you...in the same dark waters, though, and send prayers because I understand.