Everyone has experienced loss of some kind in their lifetime, even if it has not necessarily been a physical death. Going through life there is a rhythm that has some loss that is natural, expected, healthy. At some point we lose our childhood, our innocence or our naivety. We say goodbye to different seasons of life, like school years, or summers away at camp. But I also think it is also safe to say that everyone has experienced a more physical loss of friends or family moving away or a death of a relative.
I talked greatly about different forms of loss in my life in my counseling sessions last year. It started off with talking about leaving a place that I called home for 15 years, knowing that I would never live their again, or even know if I would be back to visit. With that came the loss of just a whole season of life and a way of living. But much of that was expressing the deepness of grief that had bruised my heart from saying goodbye to friend after friend. I give a badge of courage to all my fellow missionary kid friends because it is not easy to live a life of constant transition and uncertainty and have to put on a good face. Many MKs struggle because maybe their parents followed the call of the Lord, but they had no choice in the matter. I recognize that this is what the Lord had for our family, and I always have tried to feel apart of that and support that- but that does not mean that it is easier. It is easy to let your heart get calloused and knowing that someone may be in your life for only a year gives you all the excuses of the world to hold them at an arm's length. But it is with courage that we vulnerably let them into our stories. I think of the quote "better to love and lose then to never love at all". (And I have found that it is not just an MK thing, but that people come and go in all seasons of life...grieving the loss of good college friends that moved also this year)
Another way I worked towards resolving loss in my life was the death of my grandfather. My grandpa Walker was a faithful Godly man who picked us up and dropped us off at the airport every time we traveled to and from Ohio. He advocated the work of my family in PNG more then anyone I know and visited us overseas on multiple occasions. He passed away my Junior year of High School while I was in PNG and I never got to say goodbye. My parents happened to leave for a conference in the States the very same morning, so I was left all alone in a hostel thousands of miles away from my grieving family (not blaming my parents at all). One of the last memories of him was sitting with him on his front porch, watching a lightning storm and talking about everything under the sun. I wish I soaked in more wisdom that day, but one of the few things I remember him saying is "I hope I get to see Leslie get married." All I know is when I talked with my kind counselor I realized that I never really allowed myself to grieve the loss of one of the greatest men I knew. Coming back to the States and not having his happy face waiting for me in the airport was strange and empty and visiting his grave was surreal. It didn't feel like it happened when it did because I was so far away. I was scared to talk about it because I didn't want to sound petty or depressing, but it didn't occur to me that I needed to process it and that I couldn't ignore something that was important to me.
The last thing that I am going to add to this part is the loss of my family. I preface this with the fact that the Lord has been working on my heart this year in that I am so blessed to have a happy and healthy family. But, when there are Walkers living in Ohio, Kansas and Papua New Guinea there are days when I think I can feel every mile that spans the distance. My parents returned to the mission field in September and though it is not the first time we have been apart, the goodbye never gets easier. Having parents move across the world doesn't mean just losing them, it means losing the convenience of calling them up on the phone for a question, losing having a place to go home for the holidays, losing being in the same time zone, some of your favorite home cooked meals, etc. My mom does an incredible job to do everything she can to make the distance softer but it still stings. I feel so often that I have to put on a brave face so that people think that the distance isn't a problem. People say I'm strong and that they could never imagine going that long apart. I feel like I have to do well so that my parents don't feel guilty for obeying the Lord to return. And I have to pretend like I am a good MK that trusts in the Lord's plan. It is only recently that I have vulnerably let my friends know that I do miss my mommy. That Christmas is one of the hardest times of years. And that I honestly am not as strong as you make me out to be. In my act to be strong and brave I stifle the space for my heart to grieve the fact that I have lost a little sense of normal and the ability to easily love.
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