Filed under: Nathanael Isaac
There are times when I cruise along and everything seems “normal.” Then, there are times when I get surprised by the walls that seem to appear so suddenly. I’ve been up against one of those walls for a little while. Perhaps that’s the wrong analogy. It’s more like trying to sprint through a swamp – No matter how fast I try to go or how much energy I expend, I don’t seem to make much progress.
For instance, I think about Nathan all the time. Rare is the day that I’m not reminded of him in some way. Usually now I’m able to remember him without the sharp bite of grief. This week is different.
Nathan’s birthday – he would be 26 – was last week. Last year I sent a card to his wife, just to let her know we were remembering him and her. This year, I didn’t. Not that we weren’t thinking of Lauren. Sadly, I find myself second-guessing most everything I do relating to my daughter-in-law because so much of what we’ve said and done with a motive of love has been misunderstood. Is it better to do nothing, than to do something and have it be turned to something else? I really don’t know. Anyway, I was thinking of Nathan’s birthday – what a gift his life was, what we’ve missed since he’s been gone.
Saturday, our good friends Kip and Marsha Frost stopped by. We haven’t seen them more than a few times since they moved to Salem over a year ago. Their concern and love have been precious to us. Talented Kip created a stained glass panel in memory of Nate. He did a beautiful job. I’ll hang it in a window that catches the morning light.
Five months after Nathan died, another young man from our area, Michael Vaughn, was killed in Iraq. Michael was about Nathan’s age and, while we only knew him from a distance, we felt an instant connection with his parents and the agony they were going through. Michael’s mother died this week, leaving her husband, George, grieving the loss of his wife and only son. Our desire to reach out to George is even greater than ever and our hearts are broken for him once again.
One of our favorite PBS programs is Oregon Field Guide. They do interesting and indepth stories about Oregon’s beautiful places and interesting people. Last night was an anniversary special about the crew that puts these programs together. This would be Nathan’s dream job – exploring unique corners of his favorite state; rafting, climbing, or backpacking to remote locations and filming the incredible scenery; telling stories about old ranchers and adventurers. I couldn’t watch it all because every scene and every interview reminded me of him.
And then there were my dreams. The image that woke me was Nathan – he looked about 17 – in a muddy, used-to-be-white football jersey, hair curly and matted from sweat, face covered with turf and blood, a radiant smile on his face. He was running with his team, fresh from battle and victory. I woke sobbing, even now asking God why He took my precious son. I miss him so much.
That is the muck I’m running through. I understand completely how a grieving mother could give in to the brokenness and take her own life. That pain can be so great and all-consuming. I keep moving, knowing that my daughter and husband need me, hoping the rest of my family does too, but other than “forward” I’m not sure what direction I’m supposed to be going. No goal, no purpose, no passion. I’m sprinting, but not feeling that I’m making much headway through this swamp.
God, I need a compass, a map, a bridge, something. I’m stuck. And I miss him so much.
