On Tuesday, around 11 a.m. a text came through in the family group chat, asking us all to pray for cousin Mona. While visiting Grenada with her sisters, parents, niece, and partner she had a medical emergency. EMTs were on the way.
I froze for a bit, and then I told God, "I don't think our family can handle another loss," and started texting and calling friends to pray with us.
Around 30 minutes later, we all received the update. Mona was never revived. She was gone.
Yesterday a friend at church asked how I'm holding up and I said, "I'm focusing on other people and trying to get things done now. I'll cry later."
I do cry now, in little bits and pieces. But honestly, I feel too broken to feel anything. When I try... I feel helpless, hurt, and afraid. I don't understand why my cousins lost their little girl last year, or why my cousin Steven is gone. I don't know why Mona isn't here. I don't know what to do with her name, written on a map of all the people I want to visit.
I'm not sure how to respond when people say, "I'm sorry for your loss."
This isn't my loss. Mona has a family, a partner, community and friends. Steven's family lives just a few minutes from me. I never got to meet my cousin's little girl, but I know her parents and how much they loved her. These experiences are theirs much more than mine.
But I remember when my grandparents died, and that was a deeply personal loss that felt entirely within my rights to say "I lost my grandparents." They were in a car accident on Good Friday, 10 years ago. The pain of that time has made my mind fuzzy, but I remember how much it hurt. Every fiber of my being caught in an anguish I wouldn't wish on anyone. And now I'm watching other people I love go through loss-- loss of someone they loved, of someone who shaped their lives. I want to help, I want to be here for them. I'll cry about it all later.
But in the back of my mind, in quiet moments, a question persists.
Why??
And if I let that question find its voice, more quickly follow.
How much more can our family take? How much more will we have to endure?
It's so hard to engage in normal life and conversations. At recovery group on Thursday, someone asked how I was doing and all I could say was, "My cousin died this week." That's the only context I really have for anything right now. How do I talk about a friend's grades or day at work or new relationship, when all I can think is, "Why another one?" "Why?" "Why, God? Don't You see how much this hurts???"
I'm not sure if anyone is listening to those questions.
I'm not really sure of anything right now except that things are very terribly wrong. I wish I could help, but all I can do is offer soup. And ask other people to pray. I just don't have the energy for it anymore.