My friend’s husband was involved in a serious motorcycle accident a couple of nights ago. He has irreversible, catastrophic damage to the brain stem, and they are removing life support tomorrow morning. I don’t remember exactly how old he is, but I think mid-to-late 40s.

It breaks my heart to think of my friend losing her spouse and their daughters losing a dad. Reading updates about his condition the past couple of days has unearthed very painful, anxiety-ridden feelings and flashbacks of the days immediately following my brother’s accidental death.

I remember several people commenting how composed I seemed or how well I seemed to be holding it all together. That’s how my friend seems right now: keeping people posted on plans, methodically arranging visits from family & friends, taking care of her girls.

People don’t see the quiet times when the walls close in. When people say, “Be sure to take care of ‘you’,” and you are not sure you remember how. When the memories, the regrets, the wishes, the images fly through your mind’s eye too quickly to dwell on any one thing in particular. That split-second when you wake up the next morning and think that maybe, just maybe, it was all a terrible dream.

I wish I could wrap my arms around her and tell her that I understand, but honestly, I don’t. I don’t understand her depth of grief. I don’t understand how she is processing the flood of emotions and decisions that are facing her in this moment, nor those that will confront her tomorrow morning or in the days to come.

Thankfully, the dark moments are fewer and farther between nowadays. It always gives me joy to remember that my brother got a matinee admission to Heaven, and the bliss that he is experiencing with our heavenly Father eclipses any measure of grief and pain that I may be feeling.