The Unrequited Pain of Loss

Most people have heard the old proverb “blood is thicker than water,” but I say family is who you love, not whose genes you happen to be sporting. In fact, blood is made mostly of water anyway, so we all have water running through our veins. And DNA is not what a person connects and attaches to; it is the soul. Love is the bonding of souls, not blood. 

Remember that 1975 song by Nazareth: “Love Hurts.”? Here is a snippet to jog your memory:
Love hurts, love scars,
Love wounds and marks any heart
Not tough or strong enough
To take a lot of pain
Love is like a cloud holds a lot of rain 
Love hurts
ooh, ooh, love hurts

Anyone who has lost a loved one can tell you this is true. And I don't just mean the loss of a loved one who has entered the Pearly Gates. I'm talking about the loss that comes from being cut off inexplicably. This can be with some half-baked excuse or even without so much as a singular word of explanation. 

First and foremost—it hurts. It hurts like the dickens and it leaves one’s soul in a lurch. A lurch that feels hollow and nameless. And every time it seems as though skin has grown over the wound and it appears to be healed, it gets bumped, or scratched, and then, behold, the festering sore is brought to light. 

Personally, I have several of these subcutaneous boils. I have wanted so badly to know the reason for the rejection, for the metaphorical door slammed in my face; for the texts unanswered, for the emails—ignored. They lie in wait in my text-graveyard. If I scroll down far enough, they are still there. Or, they lie in wait, buried six feet under in my inbox where thousands of emails have pushed them from my line of sight. But one little word in the search bar or scroll of my thumb, and I can have the latest searing hot iron at my fingertips. 

I have periodically gone back and perused these texts and emails, reading the actual lines and then also attempting to read the spaces between them—as if anyone ever could. 

When and how someone comes into your heart isn’t always your choice. Sometimes it's by blood and sometimes it’s by marriage or friendship. But the ache of loss doesn’t keep track of those things. Those are just formalities. 

But why do people cut certain individuals—even loved ones—out of their lives? If it were for egregious sins no one would question it. Sometimes it is necessary to “cut ties.” I have done this by removing certain people from my life—but the reasons were made crystal clear and my actions were deemed necessary by the witnesses of others, not just myself. 

But I would never cut someone off or seek someone’s harm unless it was in defense of myself or my family (I’m just being honest). And so, I have examined every aspect of why I was severed by these individuals, and I cannot find an angle that seems to justify the actions behind the severeness of the rejection. It is a puzzle with only the pieces of the outside edges to make the frame. It is a mystery I cannot solve.  What did I do? Do I remind them of sordid past mistakes, or did they just get up out of bed one day and stop caring? I don’t believe that, but neither can I figure it out. 

But here is the conclusion I have come to: if it was something I did and they did not tell me and give me the chance to repair, then I am sorry for the loss of trust, for this is what real, true, loving relationships are based upon. 

Trust is necessary, unavoidable—crucial. It is the crux of all manners and varieties of love. I wish these individuals could have trusted me by allowing me to know what it was that happened (did something happen?), for again, I’ve never purposely meant to harm a soul, although anyone who is human has done so at some point. 

I find it interesting to note that one particular loss has caused me to suffer dreams—unending dreams—even after multiple counseling sessions to process the pain. Strange, that I dream of the non-blood ex-family member and not of the one who is blood, which arches back to my original point: the blood of love is not always thicker than water.

But what do I do with this pain, when the scab gets removed and my heart bleeds? This is where I must lean on God. Ultimately, I need to forgive the rejection—and I do. And I am. Ultimately, I’m just hoping the festering wound that never heals—the longing to hear that person’s voice, the tug in my heart, the tears of sadness—will eventually make peace with the truth and the reality that these people have drawn a line (an inexplicable to me—long, deep, gaping line) in the sand. 

As a believer in Christ and His love and forgiveness of my own faults—there is nothing left to do when I feel the pinpricks of pain behind my eyes. I must, in my tears and sorrow and aching heart—forgive.

I forgive you for drawing that line without so much as even telling me what it was for. 

I extend to you the tenderhearted forgiveness that God has to given me. I do not wish you harm, but good. Only blessings. I still love you, though you have made yourself my enemy of sorts. I will do good to you and I will trust God with all my heart to make my paths straight—and yours as well. For though you have cut me off, there is something in me that still loves you and cannot let you go in this life. My heart doesn’t always get to choose who it loves; however, by definition of being a Christian, it also doesn't get to choose who it forgives. 

Ephesians 4:32 ESV Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.
1 Peter 3:9 ESV Do not repay evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary, bless, for to this you were called, that you may obtain a blessing.
Luke 6:27 ESV “But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you.
Proverbs 3:5-6 ESVTrust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.