Liam's Love

Lost in Limbo

After pulling me to one side in my Aunt’s house, my mother told me with trepidation and grief in her eyes, “Grace, Liam has passed away.” Static. All I heard was static. I felt the backs of my eyes start to burn with fire and with each passing second the fire only became more unbearable. I finally extinguished the fire with my cascading tears; granting me only temporary relief. My mind was transported to an arbitrary “place” of darkness but it was not quite like a “place” because it simply had no structure. This darkness was not unlike a room but it also was not unlike a deep endless void. It was like I had been thrown out into space and I would perpetually be in some kind of limbo, always seeing the light from the stars and planets around me but never being able to reach out to the light for purchase. I was only vaguely aware that my mother was holding my shaking frame as I was in limbo, drifting through space; I was only vaguely aware that I had even started heaving with sobs. 

Everything after that seemed like a blur; a fever dream. I just remember shortly after, as I sat on my grandmother’s lap on the porch, that this night would change my life forever. As my grandmother was holding my hand, I looked up at the night sky but I could barely see because my tears were blurring my vision of the moon so full and bright. I could not think clearly. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. The more I pondered, the more convoluted things became. I had lost my brother; my best friend. 

As I was sitting there in my grandmother’s lap, I sat in a daze, pondering the whole turn of events. Everything from my point of view seemed to morph into muted colors and tones. The leaves on the trees that were once vibrant shades of green now were grayish-tones; the roses in the garden were now a muted red and everything that existed around me seemed to follow suit. Of course I had known that brain cancer, specifically glioblastoma, was a highly deadly form of cancer, with a five percent survival rate. But I was also so convicted that my brother was going to be that five percent; nothing could have changed my mind. 

At eight years old not many kids experience death or understand exactly what that entails. At eight years old, most kids are still untainted from the world’s darkness and suffering. My brother, at nine years old, had already seen and felt suffering but there was nothing I could do to help him, except be there for him. So naturally as I was outside on the porch for what seemed like a lifetime, I realized I had to try to live without someone who had always been a constant star in my life. I pondered the question of why? Why was he taken from me? He was not coming back and I had to accept it. I came to the conclusion that God really was real; that destiny really could not be changed. 

That night, I found my light and comfort in Jesus Christ. When people find their light, they should run out, grab it and then never let go. It did not mean that my pain fully healed that night, but I realized through my faith in Him at eight years old, that bad things happen for a reason. Slowly but surely, the colors that became muted that night still try to find their vibrancy today. Slowly but surely, eight and a half years later, the loss becomes more and more tolerable every day.

Written by Grace Irene Humphries