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Rainbow Goblins and Holes in the Sky

I think of what life would be like if something happened to my children or my husband. Like a hole in the sky.

I was just picturing how life seems normal, the usual everyday grind, but for those grieving, what looks like normal is really just a shell with a dark hole underneath.

If you are sad, grieving, mourning, the universe is never going to be the same. You might as well live on Jupiter. This Earth might as well have chunks of blue sky missing.

Not to worry folks. All is well. My kids are fine.  McSweetie is great. Today that is. But what if suddenly things changed.  I went to a funeral last week for a friend who passed unexpectedly and far too soon, leaving a wife and child in a path of shock and grief. I arrived thinking how much I hate funerals. It’s so hard to be composed in your sadness, especially if you didn’t know the person well. I’m always emotional. What can I say? I laugh loud, and cry ugly. It’s just who I am. I prefer to be goofy. So being serious and composed is hard for me. I am likely to say something ridiculous and inappropriate. So I keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to draw away any attention to why people are really there.

Listening to the comforting words of family and friends give their respects to this man that passed away. This husband, father, son and brother who died before his 50th birthday leaving a wife and a child, I was comforted by the stories, peaceful in the hymns, almost lulled into the recollections of his childhood, the courtship of his wife, his days as a Cub Scout leader. And then when it all came to end, and it was time to rise while the casket was to be lead outside, I had to hold back the tears. The pain of what it must be like for those closest to this loved one to say good bye. To really, actually, truly say good bye to the person. The physical person being taken away, in a box, covered in flowers. To put that person in the ground. And I thought how truly painful this part is. How do you let go?? Then I realized, oh if only the funeral could last forever, sitting there in the warmth and comfort of people who love and have understanding, compassion!  Not to go out in the cold, cruel world of bills, deadlines, work and struggle. The dark of night, alone in a bed that you’ve shared for so many years.  Or for parents who have lost a child-  a child’s room, quiet, bed un-made, clothes everywhere, never to be worn again. Oh, THAT is the painful part.

Sitting in the church singing and talking, crying and laughing, hugging and comforting. How easy that is compared to the days ahead.

I know parents who have lost children.

Or people who desperately want to be parents. Sometimes you grieve over a child you never had. Or only had for a short time, either unborn or born unwell.

I’m not sure why but it made me think of a book I was fascinated by as a kid.

Remember the book the Rainbow Goblins? These creepy ass little mo-fo goblins stole the colors of the rainbow. The story intrigued, creeped, and compelled me as a child. The illustrations were fantastic. These goblins ate the colors of the rainbow. They sucked the color from this world for their greedy selves. How much the thought of death feels like it just sucks the color from our world. How your loved one gone is like the sun missing, or a world without rainbows, a night sky without any stars or moon.

Sometimes my imagination runs rampant. I get weird thoughts on horrible things that could happen to my children. I become hyper-sensitive to the dangers of the outside world. I want to wrap them in bubble wrap. I want to spend the day in bed curled up next to them watching Tom and Jerry all day. This will never work, because they will constantly be asking me to bring them stuff like juice and Poptarts. And I’ll be like, ‘what about me? Who’s bringing mommy lattes and waffles?’

THEM- “you can get those for yourself mommy while you get us our juice and Poptarts.”  Gee thanks.

Okay, back to the hole in the sky and the Rainbow Goblins. Today I will remember to be glad that I have my children to smush and snuggle.  That I have my husband to not load the dishwasher properly, put his socks away or roll his eyes at me. I would miss that terribly. He has really pretty eyes- by the way.

But for anyone out there who feels like there’s a hole in the sky. Or the goblins stole your rainbow- my heart is with you.

The good news, is in the end, the goblins were consumed by the flowers of the valley. Colors were vivid once again in the butterflies, birds and flowers. The valley celebrated and rainbows never let themselves to touch the earth again for fear of being stolen.

I do believe in heaven, resurrection and the great hereafter. I do know that regardless of pain here on earth, the dull shades of black, white and gray- there will be color and rainbows and happiness for all eternity. I know that is very optimistic of me. I’m a faithful believer in my Savior. That is what gets me through. I wish others the hope in their hearts for the rainbow again, whatever their faith may be.

Comments

  1. I am so sorry for the loss of your friend. Your words are very true and heartfelt. Really, you’ve said it all. Losing someone, especially someone closer to our age really makes you appreciate the simple things in life. Thank you for reminding us.

  2. Jenn says:

    I wonder if we all have those moments? I find myself in a state of panic sometimes with the “what ifs” of my life. There will be times I’ll be tickling my DD and she’ll be frantic with the belly laughs, and I’ll suddenly stop and wonder “What if this is it? What if tomorrow she’s gone?”… With my DS I’ll be aggravated at something he’s doing (or NOT doing), and I’ll snap at him, but then my mind with jump forward to “What if tomorrow he has an accident and this is what he remembers?” I try to use those moments to remember to be grateful for all I have and to absorb every second of happiness I can… And to say an extra “Thank you” to the Universe for the health and happiness of my family :-)

  3. Absolutely. I find myself in the middle of something wonderful wondering what would happen if this was “it,” the “last moment” or the “last memory.” I think it’s human nature to wonder, but I try to use those times when I panic as a reminder to absorb all the happiness I can and to throw and extra “Thank You!” up to the Universe for all the wonderfulness I have :-)

  4. What a powerful post! My brother-in-law died unexpectedly last year, leaving my sister a widow at 32, and the single mother to a 2 year old. I love the description of living on Jupiter. It’s so true! Nothing seems in sync for quite a while!

    Warmest regards,
    Joy
    http://www.PardonMyPoppet.com

    • That is terrible! Your poor sister- your poor family. I just found out about a horrible tragedy of some friends, and all I can think of is the family. Everyone is affected. Thank you for reading.

  5. One tired mama says:

    Yeah, I can’t even think about stuff like that! My husband and I don’t take a day for granted either. His dad died at 56, from Cancer, and my mom had a 6 way bypass at 53. Not to mention we lost a couple babies in our early years. The older we get, we realize how precious time really is. My husband is self employed and is home a lot. It makes our family crazy, since they think he should be making more money. Guess what? We could care less what we have to do without! We will NEVER regret the time we spend together. Loved your blog :)

  6. What a very accurate description of what grief is like. My dad died 2 years ago at the age of 59 and my world became colorless. Of course, eventually, the colors come back, but it is an ugly place until then. Thank you for such a wonderful post!

  7. I am so sorry for your loss. Heartbreaking and profound writing here, skillfully expressed. This one really touched me.

  8. I’m going to find this book. I love this post Frug, it made me tear up. I lost a son, he is my strength in the times when I feel the color is taken from my day. Thanks is all else I can really say to you for this post.

  9. shoes says:

    Beautiful post. It sometimes takes a pretty big negative, even if it is not in our immediate lives, to come to the realization that what we have is pretty darn fragile and that we are quite lucky.
    I have not heard of the Rainbow Goblins book but will have to look for it.

  10. Claire says:

    It took me losing someone (not early, but always too early) to understand the statement of “I’m sorry for your loss.” and how much it can do for someone. This is a good reminder to be grateful for what you have, and supportive for the lose you hope to never have yourself.

  11. I can’t tell you how much this post means to me. It hit home on so many levels. I have irrational fears of the outside world hurting/stealing/tainting my child, and I’d love to have him live in a bubble right next to me… and I’m also preparing myself for a potential loss, which is hitting me harder than expected.

    • Thank you so much. Tragedy has been coming in sets lately. Wishing you strength as you deal with what’s to come.

      • Uta says:

        Only you and I know what you writing your blog, especially on this day, means. You wrote it before we had any idea what was to come. I hope and pray that the colors will return.

  12. ghfool says:

    As you know, I am going through a divorce…and my therapist told me it’s a grieving process much like death. I feel as though my entire family was killed in a terrible car accident. As if…poof…they are gone…forever. Thanks for writing this wonderful post. It helps to be reminded of the effect of loss and the strength that god can give us to get through it.

  13. Chris says:

    The concert version of the book:

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