Light. I’ve been so drawn to light ever since Benny passed away. It reminds me of him. It reminds me of our Savior, who I believe Benny is with. I’ve been looking for it everywhere in my life to keep Benny’s memory alive and to fill our lives with its goodness. I’m so grateful for light.
The other day we lit the fire in our family room and I loved seeing it and feeling its warmth. Again, I just really love light. Especially now. But as I was enjoying it, Zoey walked up to the fireplace and I jumped over to move her away. “Zoey, that’s hot! Don’t get too close, sweetheart. We don’t want you to get burned!” But then it hit me – the same light and warmth that I was enjoying held the potential to hurt my sweet little girl. Why? Why the paradox? This has been on my mind, and there are so many pieces of it that I’ve been wondering.
So, I took it to Benny on our walk. (I’m grateful for the sunshine that brought light to the day and made it pleasant to be outside!)
Last week I was talking to one of my best friends and she too was talking about Benny and his light. We were talking about ideas on how we can keep Benny’s light in our lives and how we can share it with those around us. I love thinking about Benny and his light, and I’m grateful for those who also remember and share Benny’s light. I’ve realized—and Benny helped remind me today—that if I want my angel boy’s light to continue, I need to make an effort. Even the biggest fire will eventually burn out if not continually fueled. This is part of what my wise friend told me she’d been thinking about, too. I need to continue doing what I can (particularly through service, as my friend and I talked about) to keep Benny’s memory alive in my life and the lives of my children.
Similarly, I need to continue to stoke the fire of my faith in order to keep it burning strong. It’s what has gotten me through this most-difficult experience, and I never, ever want to lose it. As I mentioned in a previous post, thankfully I feel it’s generally pretty solid… But just like the fire, unless I consistently fuel it, I run the risk of it burning out. I’ve seen a lot of people who once had “faith fires” that could light the world, but over time they’ve burned out. And it breaks my heart, because I feel they’ve lost the biggest boon we’re offered in this life to survive the most difficult of storms. Tom and I talk often about what a different experience we’d be having right now if we didn’t have our faith, and how much more heartbreaking, abysmal, and final this would all feel. But because of our faith, we have hope in the future and we know we’ll see our Benny again. We know that with everything in us now, but unless we continue to stoke our “faith fires” there’s no guarantee.
As I’ve been thinking about this fire concept, and as I “talked” with Benny about it today, I’ve wondered how I can truly do this. How I can use my angel boy’s death as a fire within my heart that fuels me to do better and be better, instead of having it be a fire that just burns and hurts and may eventually fade out. I think Benny helped me realize there are three things I need to remember when it comes to fire, whether it be actual fire or a faith fire – understanding and learning, looking for the good, and not being afraid.
In order to appreciate fire and harness its power to our benefit, we have to understand it. We have to understand its potential—for good and for bad. Simply understanding the good isn’t enough. Like Zoey, we may be drawn to it but unless we understand it’s potential, we may find ourselves burned. I’ve found grief to be the same. We’ve felt so much sorrow and grief since Benny passed away. We’ve had those moments where we felt the darkness start to overtake us. We’ve felt the pain and the burn and at times found ourselves getting too close to the flame of despair. But because we understand that and are learning ways to work ourselves through it, we’ve also been able to process and heal. We certainly don’t do it perfectly, but we’re slowly understanding the fiery furnace of grief more and learning how to get close enough to feel it and acknowledge it’s there, but not so close that we end up burned. We’re learning through our own experiences, as well as the experiences shared with us by others, and that learning is allowing us to move forward instead of staying stuck in the flames.
Another aspect of this that’s been so important to me as we’ve been working through this loss is looking for the good. Losing a child is indescribable. The pain is so deep and hard to even explain. But the good has been there. It really has. Every time I’ve looked for it – and even at times I haven’t – it’s been right there. Like fire, there is much to be aware of when it comes to grief and much to even in a way be scared of. But there is also so much goodness and light to be found in fire—and grief—as well. I think sometimes the Lord teaches us best through paradoxes. The good comes at us right alongside the bad, and it’s up to us which we choose to see. I don’t love this grief, don’t get me wrong. I’d give anything to have my angel boy back. But one thing I’ve seen as I’ve looked for the good is the way this has strengthened so much in my life – my faith, my testimony, my relationship with my Heavenly Parents, my relationship with my Savior, my relationship with friends and family, my desire to be the best mama I can, my partnership and love for Tom. So much good has come out of this that perhaps couldn’t have come any other way. Again, I’d give anything to go back two months and be with our sweet Benny again – but I think he’d be proud that I’m trying to look for the good and honor his memory by doing so.
The night that Benny passed away, I felt more fear than I’ve ever felt in my life. I was worried the darkness and grief of losing him would overtake me. Over the next few days, I continued to feel afraid of what the future would look like and if I’d ever actually be able to move forward. But thankfully I am moving forward. The fear hasn’t engulfed me. I’ve had to learn how to handle the fear because I don’t want to be afraid forever. By being afraid, I can’t heal. I’m grateful to have recognized that. I feel the pain and the grief, but I’m not afraid of them. I understand them and I’m figuring out how to work through them. I’m so glad for that. Just like the fireplace, I don’t want Zoey to be afraid (hopefully my reaction didn’t scare her!) but I do want her to be aware of the danger of being burned and appropriately keep her distance. It’s the same with my grief. I want to feel it and process it, while recognizing the danger of being stuck in it if I get too close.
My goal moving forward is to continue to stoke my faith fire and make it bigger every day. By doing so, I feel I’ll be better equipped to keep Benny’s memory of light and goodness and love alive. It’s going to take effort, and it won’t always be easy, but I know it’s worth it. I never want Benny’s light to dim, and I never want my faith to dim. I can use this experience as a fire that fuels me to be better, or I can find myself burned and stuck in the flames. I choose the former. I can see how Benny has already helped me become a better person since he’s been gone, and I look forward to continuing to feel him inspire and motivate me to be better in the future. One thing I distinctly felt from him today is that he knows my heart and is proud of me for making an effort. I don’t always do it perfectly. I certainly haven’t handled my grief perfectly. But I’m trying. I’m honestly and sincerely trying. Benny knows it. I know it. And the Lord knows it. And thankfully when it comes right down to it, a little trying is all it takes to create darkness-shattering flames.
