Why

“He is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen and it's not about his face, but the life force I can see in him. It's the smile and the pure promise of everything he has to offer. Like he's saying, 'Here I am world, are you ready for so much passion and beauty and goodness and love and every other word that should be in the dictionary under the word life?' Except this boy is dead, and the unnaturalness of it makes me want to pull my hair out... It makes me want to yell at the God that I wish I didn't believe in. For hogging him all to himself. I want to say, 'You greedy God. Give him back. I needed him here.”
― Melina Marchetta, On the Jellicoe Road

For me, this is one of the most difficult and honest entries I will write. When I read the quote above, I cried. It was like someone knew my heart and how I felt about my beautiful Chris. Even in the midst of many prayers, I must admit that my faith has been shaken. In my own, flawed, understanding of the world, I struggle with the “why.” While I do not doubt God’s existence, or his love, my heart cannot reconcile the loss of four beautiful people. 

I will be the first person to acknowledge that my struggle is selfish, wrought of my desire to have Chris with me, here. I know that I cannot fathom the vastness of God’s plans, his omnipotence. But knowing these things does not change the pain in my heart, and that is the honest prayer that I must cry. 

In life, I thanked God every day for bringing Chris to me, for revealing the person I was meant to marry at the perfect time. When I met Chris, I felt like I could breath. The restlessness within me disappeared. Loving him came so easily. The happiness and love he brought into my life humbled me deeply. I honestly thought, how do people get this lucky?

From what I have read of grief, it is common for the bereaved to feel a sense of guilt and blame. My fear is that I loved Chris too much, that I put him first. And now he has been taken away. At first, it felt like a punishment (a selfish viewpoint, I am aware). The more that I have prayed, and reflected, the more that I feel this is not true. The God I believe in does not punish us for love. I do not get the sense that what God wants from us is to grovel in his holiness at all times. Nor does he manipulate our faithfulness with punishment; rather he compels us through love. I know God brought Chris and I together, but I struggle with why he broke us apart so soon.

He was a man of such compassion, love, and mirth. Yes, he was a smart-ass too, but he had the most beautiful heart underneath all that wit. While Chris was brilliant beyond his years, he also had a child-like wonder and curiosity that fed his passion for learning. He wasn’t full of malice; his intentions were always genuine and good. He loved so honestly and simply. In short, he was beautiful. He loved life, he lived it well. How can a world that is in need of beauty and goodness be robbed of not just his beauty, but that of the three other members of the crew? There were four amazing and beautiful people aboard that flight, four brilliant lights no longer here to brighten this world. 

When I face Chris’ death alone, my mind tries to create answers that do nothing to reconcile the loss of four lives. As one person, I think of what Chris was spared from. How his death may have been a tragic mercy from something far worse-- a fate that may have killed his spirit in a way that would have tortured him. This is the sort of rational a grieving widow gives herself to create meaning when none exists. But such an “answer” does not fit the senselessness of losing an entire crew.

What I am facing is the truth that I will never understand why. Even when the reports are completed and we face the knowledge of what happened in those last few moments, that “why” will always cast its shadow. That is where I struggle with my faith most, because the accident clashes with my understanding of God’s benevolence. I find it difficult to articulate how I both believe in God’s wisdom and struggle against it. Because, honestly, this does not feel like wisdom. It feels meaningless. 

I do not feel spite. What I feel is lost. 

I have welcomed the prayers of so many into my life and heart. And I trust that they have kept me afloat through all of this. I hope my struggle does not imply that I am not grateful for all those who have prayed on behalf of my family and the families of the Jolly 22 crew. I am relearning how to feel God’s grace for myself, even as I ask him to extend his grace to others. 

I share these thoughts because I think it is important to acknowledge my flawed faith and my humanity. I know that I am not alone in feeling hurt and questioning God’s plan. I’d rather be honest and say “I don’t get it” than say “he is in a better place.” In my heart, there will never be a better place than with me. As perfect as heaven is, my selfish heart will always want Chris by my side. And I pray God forgives me for loving Chris that much.