When you lose your best friend, it seems to wound you.
Obviously, you have to learn to live with the visible reminder. In my
imagination, my wound seems to show up on the side of my face.
Since it has been over a year, I wouldn't say that this
wound is constantly bleeding. It is somewhat scabbed. It might be that way for
a long time. I still hit it on things and it bleeds. It still oozes at night.
Some places are scarring and other place will be scabs my whole life.
I have noticed that when I meet new people, I turn my head.
People look at my normal side, at my green eye, and think how friendly and
plain it is. Then after talking to me a little, they realize that throughout
our conversation I haven't squarely looked at them once.
"Turn your face," they say, as they ask me more
about my life.
"No," I warn by bringing up a new subject. I don't
know you enough to see. I keep them at arm's length because my heart tells me
it will hurt just as much to tell them about my scar as it did to receive it.
"Please, leave me alone," my heart fears.
It doesn't take long though before they noticed my head is
turned again.
"Let me see what's on the other side of your
face." Being that I am not a good secret keeper, I oblige
"Oh my gosh! What happened?!" they exclaim.
I tell them. "My husband died. My 23 year old husband,
the love of my life, my brilliant, counseling best friend is in heaven. And I
still can't believe I have to go on without him."
My scar seems to throb and bleed, but instead of turning
away or changing the subject most people do the exact opposite.
After my terrified shock of exposing my weakness, they take my hand, hold it, roll up their
sleeve and there is also a wound in various states of healing. It happened more
than once that I have feared showing my brokenness, showing my wound. Sheer
terror escaped from every pore of my body the moment before I showed them my whole
face, but somehow their kindness and their willingness to also show scars has
healed me a little bit. "So I am not alone, I am not the only human in
this place that scars are so prevalent on," I think.
I guess I mean to say. Share your scars, share your wounds,
share your pain. Wounds and scars are often so isolating when you are the only
one that sees them. Share them with a trustworthy someone that can point you to
the true Healer, the true wiper of tears, and the Creator of all things. It
really has made all the difference to me.
