Outliving Your Child—Life lessons from a season of grief

It was Thanksgiving weekend in 2001 (the year the numbers 9/11 were forever embedded in our memories). My husband, Art, our 23-year-old daughter, Erika, and I drove to Petoskey, Michigan to enjoy the holiday with extended family. Little did we know that would be the last time Erika would be with any of us. We had a terrific time sharing memories, laughing, playing Cribbage, eating a traditional turkey dinner, enjoying the view of Lake Michigan, and the quaint down town area tourists love to visit. We had returned to our home in northern Indiana Friday afternoon. Erika planned to spend the night with us before driving back to her new apartment in a neighboring county. Saturday morning, Art and I took an early-morning walk through our neighborhood. Some of our neighbors were beginning to put up Christmas decorations and the wooded lots were beginning to look festive. We were about to round the sidewalk to our street when my husband spotted a car backed into the driveway of a vacant home which was for sale. Hmm. Someone was sitting in the driver’s seat. Could it just be a realtor waiting for some home buyers to come view the house? When Art looked closer, he recognized the face. “Isn’t that George (not his real name)?” he asked. I couldn’t be sure, but it gave me a sinking feeling. Erika met George while they were both employed at a local restaurant. They had been dating a couple years before she began to see some negative character traits that concerned her. We had issued several cautions regarding George, but Erika assured us there was nothing to worry about. Eventually, circumstances revealed a darker side of this young man, and she knew it was time to sever all ties to him. George would not have it. He continued to stalk her. Parked in this vacant driveway, George had a clear view of our driveway where Erika’s compact car was parked.

Art called the police. “I wish there was something we could do,” replied the officer who responded timely with a knock on our front door. He filled out a report and said, “I empathize with your concerns. I also have a daughter about Erika’s age, and I have the same feelings as you.” “But,” he added, “we cannot arrest him for something he might do.” We understood. But we were also glad a report was now on record in the event he chose to escalate the situation.

That evening Erika planned to meet a few girl friends at a local restaurant for dinner. She packed her bags and hugged us good-bye. We informed her we spotted George in the neighborhood. Erika didn’t appear concerned. But we were. “Please call me when you leave the restaurant and head home,” Art stated. “If you sense anyone is following you on the road, call 9-1-1.” And he concluded, “And I want you to call me when you are back in your apartment.” Erika assured him she would comply. I cannot explain the heaviness I was feeling that evening. It wasn’t just seeing my daughter grow up and live on her own. We encouraged her to be a strong, independent woman. It was more than that. I sensed something was coming, but I had no idea what it could be. A couple hours later, around 8:30pm, Erika phoned to let us know her dinner was concluded and she was headed toward her car to drive home to her apartment. Art reminded her to call him again when she arrived home. And at 11:30pm, she called to say she was in her apartment. But she never made it home. She was held at gunpoint in her own car on a city street in Fort Wayne, Indiana, assuring us everything was fine. (The police suspected George was waiting for our daughter in the restaurant parking lot, and ordered her into her car at gunpoint.) After Erika’s second call, we went to bed but had difficulty falling asleep.

When you hear a soft knock on your front door at 4:30 in the morning, you know it can’t be good. My husband popped out of bed and went to our second story window overlooking our front yard and driveway. “There’s a dark-colored sedan parked in our driveway,” he said half-awake. “Don’t answer that door,” I ordered. “That might be George coming to invade our home…or worse.” But Art assured me the sedan was not the car George occupied in our neighborhood on Saturday morning. “This is someone else. I have to go check it out. You stay upstairs.” And Art put on his robe and went downstairs to the front door. I remained upstairs and could hear voices speaking very softly at the door. “Deb, you need to come down here,” Art said rather emphatically. So I put on my robe and slowly descended the stairs to our living room. A police detective and a chaplain were seated in chairs opposite our sofa where Art was seated. I sat down beside him. One low light was on in that room, and I felt the darkness creeping in.

The two officers were very calm and respectful. They gently approached the subject by first collecting general information from us. “Do you have a daughter?” “Does she drive a white Cavalier?” “Was she in town last evening?” And then we felt as if the floor was yanked from our room and we were reeling without a way to steady ourselves.

“I’m very sorry to tell you this,” stated the detective, who had probably brought tragic news to families numerous times that year. “Your daughter was fatally shot in the head and died at 12:30 this morning.” He paused to allow this nightmare to sink in. He continued, “Neighbors reported she was driving her car on their city street. When she came to a traffic intersection and the light turned red, she opened her car door and ran desperately in the opposite direction. A young man got out of the passenger seat, pointed a gun at her and shot her in the head. She fell to the sidewalk and died instantly. George then turned the gun on himself and lived thirty minutes before his life ended.” (Later, we learned her cell phone recorded several attempted calls to 9-1-1, but in a state of fear and haste she kept pressing 6-1-1.)

My first thought after hearing the dreaded news was this: While we are sitting here barely comprehending what we hope is nothing but a very bad dream, our beloved daughter is in the arms of her Savior! She is enjoying the early hours of her eternal life! While I was not yet realizing the depth of emotional pain that would come, the Lord provided comfort in the midst a nightmare that would forever be tattooed to our life journey. Two weeks after she was born on July 27, 1978, The Lord brought Erika to faith through Baptism. She later confirmed the vows spoken on her behalf at age thirteen, and the Lord welcomed her to her eternal home on November 25, 2011. We do not know the day or the hour our earthy lives will come to an end. But we can ensure our children receive the Word of God into their lives. I will forever thank the Lord for creating faith in Erika’s heart, and for keeping her in that faith until her last breath.

You may wonder why I am sharing all of this with you. I am writing this article for those who have also lost a child. I am writing this article for those who may lose a child in the days to come. I am writing this article to bring you hope in the midst of one of the darkest valleys—loss of a loved one.

Satan is subtle. The thoughts hover over us like low clouds on a foggy day. And they appear true! Look what George stole from us! He took the life of our daughter! He robbed us of the opportunity to embrace a son-in-law one day! He stripped away the possibility of cuddling Erika’s children—our grandchildren! But he doesn’t stop there. Satan gradually directs our anger toward God. Lord, you could have protected her better. Where were You when she was held at gun-point, a hostage in her own car? How could you have shortened her life like this?

And there it is. Our finger-pointing is ultimately aimed at God. And if we are not careful, we become putty in Satan’s hands. Here’s what we need to know. Jesus describes Satan this way:

He (Satan) was a murderer from the beginning and did not remain standing in the truth, because there is no truth in him. Whenever he lies, he speaks from what is his, because he is a liar and the father of lying (John 8:44 EHV).

In times like this, when questions mount that seem to have no answers, we turn to the Word of God. Here’s what we know:

• Deuteronomy 29:29 (EHV) says: The hidden things belong to the Lord our God, but the revealed things belong to us and to our children forever…” There are things known only to God, that we will not know this side of eternity. We need to be content with what the Lord chooses to reveal to us.

• I Corinthians 2:11 (EHV) says: Indeed, who among men knows a man’s thoughts except the man’s spirit within him? So also, no one else knows God’s thoughts except God’s Spirit. We do not know the mind of God. We are ants on the earth, people. While we were tempted to imagine that fairy tale life our daughter would have had if she lived longer, the truth is we have no idea how her life would have played out. What did the Lord see that prompted Him to bring her to her heavenly home at age 23? From what disease or disaster might He have protected her? We only know that our thoughts are not God’s thoughts. We must leave with God the things known only to Him.

• I Corinthians 15: 55, 57 (EHV) says: Death is swallowed up in victory. Death, where is your sting? Grave, where is your victory?…But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ! Even if someone lived to be well over 100 years, she is still a dot on the map in contrast to everlasting life with the Lord one day. On the cross when Jesus uttered the words, it is finished (John 19:30), He affirmed payment for our sin was accomplished. Jesus died in our place, so we may live with Him in everlasting righteousness. Thus, death has no sting because Jesus overcame death and the grave.

• 2 Corinthians 1:4 (EHV) says: …so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the same comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. I was overwhelmed by the comfort the Lord brought our way. Cards arrived from people we did not know. But they knew about loss of a child. Many briefly shared their stories and the comfort the Lord brought them. They passed on those words of comfort to us. As time passed, we were also able to pass on the comfort we received. As we did, others experienced the same healing we received from the Lord.

Do I miss my daughter? Every day. Do I wish I could have shared more of life with her? Absolutely. More importantly, I know the Lord claimed her as His own in Baptism and kept her in the faith until that fatal shot. I know she is with Him today, and I will see her again at the Resurrection!