Most of us can look back and see the single pendulum moment that changed us, rerouting the course of our life. The moment you said I DO or got accepted into the school of your dreams; Maybe it is motherhood. And all of those are valid. I’ve birthed many beautiful moments in this life. But the pendulum, the reroute, the day this world changed its color wheel, was the day my little brother returned to Glory.
This post isn’t about my feelings or the depth of hurt encumbered post loss. Instead, it’s about grief familiarity. We all share it. Some more than others. But that indescribable sharpness felt in our chest, that torturous hell in deaths’ aftermath… it changes us. It connects us. We see more clearly the face of suffering allowing us to empathize with total strangers.
This Is Us rewrites television in the most authentic basis of the human experience. We, every single one of us, relate. And do you know why? Because of FAMILY. And LOVE. And GRIEF. It’s this collective truth that intertwines us into their stories. Their story lines, even individually, are not too unfamiliar are they? The battles of addiction, weight, self worth, relationships, mental health and loss. In both this family’s gains and losses, we find ourselves there.
Last night Jack Pearson, who lets face it, is TELEVISION GOLD died suddenly and unexpectedly. He was America’s family man and the Pearson shining light. Randall, his son, in a flashback describes the sudden loss as a lightning bolt you can’t even see reaching inside you and tearing out your guts. <— UGH. This is why I love this show. It’s not dark, but it’s also not fluff. It’s real and relateable.
We rise and fall with the people we love. When they are chasing their dreams, we’re running along side them. When they feel heavy, we want to share their load. And when they rise from the ashes, we are cheering them on. But when they die… when they die, there is no where to place that love. That’s the real tragedy. We’re running in circles wanting to love them more and harder and so much more intentionally. And we cannot. It’s somewhere in this discovery that we develop a blue print on how to live through loss.
The circumstances surrounding their death may never make sense. We may have to leave this earth in order to understand. The great reunion will happen, there is no doubt in my mind. And THAT is the secret to my blue print. THAT is how I know we can continue to live even though that familiar ache has rested into our bones. I hope we can see a tinge of this truth carry on through Rebecca as she navigates her grief. It is Hollywood of course, so I’m not holding my breath.
So if not, I hope you know where we bury the hope; deep within the promise of Jesus. If loss has knocked on your front door, I pray you you let Jesus wrap his arms around you. Because comfort comes, even when we lose a light.