There were so many people there. Over three hundred. That was a pleasant surprise. Actually, I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but it was reassuring to see how much this beautiful girl is loved. It's unfortunate that many don't see how many people care for them until it's too late. In Mandy's case, though, she knew that she had amazing family and friends that love her very much.
It wasn't as sad as I thought it was going to be. The talk was uplifting in a way, since it's main theme was the Bible's hope for the future and how we're all going to see her again. Of course, there were parts about Mandy at the beginning and end that made everyone start to miss her all over again, but overall it was rather positive.
Honestly, I wish I got to meet her. I think I would have liked her a lot. She liked books more than I do. She definitely loved Jehovah. We would have had some amazingly hilarious discussions. But I'll see her someday, so it's okay. Well...no it's not. Not really. But it's the new reality now, which is tragic and unfortunate and takes a long time to adjust to. No one wants to adjust to it, it's just what the world expects (which is pretty selfish of the world, in my opinion). The world doesn't stop to grieve with you, but that's what a support system is for. The ones that stop their world for you to try and understand the pain you're going through.
That's what I'm trying to do. I'm simply an innocent bystander trying to help. I have no idea what my friends are experiencing and, although I'd never wish harm on my loved ones, I wish I could fully understand the shock of having their Mandy yanked away from them in an instant. If I can help them in the tiniest way, I'll be happy. I'm not old enough to have wise words of wisdom that greatly affect their lives. I'm one of the many people that are helping them. My presence is all I have, unfortunately. But all those articles I've read about grieving and helping friends who are grieving say that I'm doing the right thing so...ok. Here I am then.
But this isn't about me. It's about her and the ones that miss her dearly. I wish I could articulate this better. I'm usually good at this. This is one of those situations, I suppose, where words can't properly describe anything that's going on right now. The people around me on Friday were hurting, and all I could do was watch. I can't describe the looks on their faces, they were all different. Some were embracing the closest friend they could find and not letting go. Some had red eyes. Some had tears. Others did not. With all these different reactions, though, not one of them was abnormal or incorrect. Everyone has a unique brain that's being forced to process this pain in it's own way.
We aren't supposed to have to deal with a tragedy this great. Hearts weren't designed to be broken. Lives weren't meant to be lost. It's not supposed to hurt like this. That's why we need that everlasting hope. I'm sure that pondering on that helps with the loss a lot. Maybe.
Right now it might just hurt. Right now the hope might not matter because she's gone. She's gone now. It's awful. It's terrible. It's sad. I could feel the devastation in the room on Friday. I just wish I could help more. But these are all strong people. With the inevitable support they'll have from family and friends and, of course, Jehovah, I know they'll make it through this. Eventually.
I'm not trying to pretend I know what this feels like. I know this post isn't doing her justice. I'm just an observer, and these are my observations.
What it comes down to is this: It's clear that Mandy is deeply loved by many people. She will truly be missed. We all look forward to seeing her again.
It wasn't as sad as I thought it was going to be. The talk was uplifting in a way, since it's main theme was the Bible's hope for the future and how we're all going to see her again. Of course, there were parts about Mandy at the beginning and end that made everyone start to miss her all over again, but overall it was rather positive.
Honestly, I wish I got to meet her. I think I would have liked her a lot. She liked books more than I do. She definitely loved Jehovah. We would have had some amazingly hilarious discussions. But I'll see her someday, so it's okay. Well...no it's not. Not really. But it's the new reality now, which is tragic and unfortunate and takes a long time to adjust to. No one wants to adjust to it, it's just what the world expects (which is pretty selfish of the world, in my opinion). The world doesn't stop to grieve with you, but that's what a support system is for. The ones that stop their world for you to try and understand the pain you're going through.
That's what I'm trying to do. I'm simply an innocent bystander trying to help. I have no idea what my friends are experiencing and, although I'd never wish harm on my loved ones, I wish I could fully understand the shock of having their Mandy yanked away from them in an instant. If I can help them in the tiniest way, I'll be happy. I'm not old enough to have wise words of wisdom that greatly affect their lives. I'm one of the many people that are helping them. My presence is all I have, unfortunately. But all those articles I've read about grieving and helping friends who are grieving say that I'm doing the right thing so...ok. Here I am then.
But this isn't about me. It's about her and the ones that miss her dearly. I wish I could articulate this better. I'm usually good at this. This is one of those situations, I suppose, where words can't properly describe anything that's going on right now. The people around me on Friday were hurting, and all I could do was watch. I can't describe the looks on their faces, they were all different. Some were embracing the closest friend they could find and not letting go. Some had red eyes. Some had tears. Others did not. With all these different reactions, though, not one of them was abnormal or incorrect. Everyone has a unique brain that's being forced to process this pain in it's own way.
We aren't supposed to have to deal with a tragedy this great. Hearts weren't designed to be broken. Lives weren't meant to be lost. It's not supposed to hurt like this. That's why we need that everlasting hope. I'm sure that pondering on that helps with the loss a lot. Maybe.
Right now it might just hurt. Right now the hope might not matter because she's gone. She's gone now. It's awful. It's terrible. It's sad. I could feel the devastation in the room on Friday. I just wish I could help more. But these are all strong people. With the inevitable support they'll have from family and friends and, of course, Jehovah, I know they'll make it through this. Eventually.
I'm not trying to pretend I know what this feels like. I know this post isn't doing her justice. I'm just an observer, and these are my observations.
What it comes down to is this: It's clear that Mandy is deeply loved by many people. She will truly be missed. We all look forward to seeing her again.
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