By: Erin M Diericx 

A reflection on the big tears of grief.

Six years ago my best friend and soulmate, Nate, made the journey to heaven after being in hospice for a few weeks.  It was a miracle Nate lived to be thirty-two (two months shy of his thirty-third birthday). Nate had Leighs Dystonia, which made him medically fragile where a common cold could have killed him at a young age. Nate could barely move his arms and head, and he could not talk, besides audible sounds. However, Nate used his eyes to communicate and show emotion. His empathic ways touched everyone he met. We met in preschool at age three and went to school together through high school. Although life circumstances separated us for a decade, we could always communicate through time and space.

One could say I had thirty-two years to prepare myself for the inedible. Even at a young age, I knew Nate would go to heaven well before me. But nothing prepares you for the most dramatic moment where your better half leaves the world. Six years ago was the worst day of my life. There were big tears late at night when my personal caregiver left. There were big angry tears with pleads to God to give him back. There were big tears of regret for time wasted. The big tears kept coming in waves, and they come even now occasionally.

To say Nate fought to live in the world as long as he could would be an understatement. Nate did everything he could to share his love to those who he loved, especially his mom and dad, his older brother and sister, and me, through his eyes and smile. It was difficult to figure out how to go forward in the world without Nate, though I knew that’s what he wanted me to do. I found a Celtic grieving prayer, where it encourages you to be gentle with yourself and to finish those unfinished conversations with your loved one (see right). With our ability to communicate through space and time, finishing those conversations happened naturally over time. 

Over the next few months, I started painting the NATErin series of water scenes with the sun and/or moon, a gold bird, and our signature in gold. The first couple paintings were dark and angry, though eventually a sunny sea scene emerged as the grieving process evolved. 

Fast forward to now: with the pandemic, sheltering in place, and the death toll coming closer to home, it has only been in the last year that I started branching out from water scenes to rolling hills to mountain scenes with the sun and/or moon, a gold bird, and our signature in gold. It has grown into a ministry to help others through the grieving process. I make cards with the original NATErin painting and send them to friends and family who have lost a loved one.

Painting each scene connects me with Nate and with others who have lost a loved one. As I paint each gift, I remember the initial pain and the raw emotions with the big tears, and I pray the receiver feels some peace in knowing their loved one is still present in their heart. 

If you said six years ago the day held a promising ministry, I would have screamed your head off, because there was no possible way without time. The NATErin ministry is Nate’s last gift to me as we help those newly grieving the lost of a loved one. It is something we built together—first as gifts to his family and now as gifts to others, even after his death. Nate entrusted me with this gift to share his love and empathic ways with others, which is a privilege and honor, and I know Nate will always be in my heart.

By: Erin M Diericx 

A reflection on answering God’s call during the pandemic as a disabled individual.

When you grow up with a disability and have friends with disability, you learn at a young age how fragile life is, because a common cold could potently turn into pneumonia and kill your medically fragile best friend. When you are sick, you understand staying away from your medically fragile best friend means more playdates in the future, because staying away keeps them from becoming sick and facing the true consequence—death. When your medically fragile best friend becomes sick, you spend every spare moment praying to God to make them well again and for more playdates in the future. These life lessons are not intentionally taught to those of us growing up within the disabled community, though they are cultivated within the very fabric through the experiences of the community itself. These life lessons have formed me into the person I am today—empathic to those who grief and a sense of calling to keep the medically fragile safe. Ultimately these lessons have cultivated a calling within me to always keep my focus on the Lord and to lead others to the Lord.

The coronavirus pandemic has lead me to rely on these lessons of my childhood. I have stayed home in order to reduce my expose to the virus and to keep my family and my personal caregivers (my bubble) safe. Those who know me personally know not being able to travel is a true sacrifice for me. However, I have done it with a sense of duty to my loved ones—those who are more immune compromised than myself, because I want them around for years to come. 

For most of the pandemic, I have been living much like a monk—only leaving the house when necessary. This has allowed me to focus on my relationship with the Triune God. I have gotten in a routine of doing evening prayer every night, which keeps me center on the Lord. This is extremely helpful when situations that in the past would cause my anxiety to be elevated come up, because I rely more on the Lord to see me through [whatever “it” is]. There is peace in knowing the Lord is with me in all circumstances and all the time.

Living like a monk has taken me back to the basics—being in God’s presence, prayer, and mediation. I have spent days deep in prayer lifting up those who are sick, dying, grieving, wondering, and lost. The world is in pain from attacks from who oppose the Triune God—Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit. Nevertheless, I keep my focus on God and his promise of eternal life in his kingdom, because nothing else gives me greater peace. 

This shift my ministry in my ministry has allowed me to reach out to those far and near. Instead of visiting with individuals, I messaging them prayers and sending them cards. In doing so, I have been able to do direct others to the Lord in order to rely on him to give them peace and to strengthen their relationship with him.

I pray one day we will be able to gather in groups again and be a thriving community again. Until then, we can sit and pray for the broken and fragile world. 

O Lord, we lift up the lonely and the grieving as they suffer attacks from the devil. Give them your strength and wisdom to continue to seek your light in the darkness. Comfort the grieving. Heal the sick. Walk with us as we seek to bring you glory in the world with the help of Jesus Christ, your Son and our Lord, and the Holy Spirit. + Amen.

Photo Credit: Samantha Lynn Parker

My day begins with a gaze at a photograph … a memory from a few years ago when I reunited with Nathan, a childhood friend and my soulmate who died last October, after losing touch for a decade. For a moment, my eyes close to remember Nathan’s laugh, eyes, and smile. Then reality sets in and I kiss Erie—the teddy bear Nathan gave me for Valentine’s Day—before putting him back by the photograph.

My days are filled with things to do—workouts, meetings, blog post writing, catching up with friends, and so on. So often, I think of Nathan and wish he were still here. One moment, a friend may complain about her husband, while I secretly wish I could still bicker with Nathan. Take me back to when we argued all day, and I would be thrilled because it would mean one more day with him. Another moment I may have to make a decision without him, and I will be overwhelmed and wish desperately he would be here to listen. Later, I will just miss his smiling eyes and wish I could look into them again.

When news broke out about the release of the film Me Before You[i] and its theme concerning the assisted suicide of a paralyzed man, I had to pause.. I am always one looking for a way to learn how others think and react to situations. Perhaps the disabled community could learn about the inner workings of the suicidal mind. How do people decide to throw away their life? What sends people over the edge? Why is assisted suicide so appealing to some?

Many people are upset the movie portraying the disabled community in such a depressing light when most of us live normal lives. We go to college, earn degrees and masters, and have careers. We get married, have families, and sometimes get divorced. We live the human experience.

Amber Lee Wesely, a friend who has cerebral palsy like me, saw it and was disgusted with its portrayal of a rich man upset about not getting his way and giving up. My thoughts immediately turned to Nathan—how he fought to stay alive for most of his thirty-two years. There is no way I could sit through a movie romanticizing assisted suicide, not when Nathan and so many others in the disabled community fought to live.

Then there was a mass shooting on June 12, 2016, at an Orlando LGBT nightclub; forty-nine people were killed, and fifty-three were injured. Two days after the shooting The New York Times reported:

Of the 44 victims brought to the hospital, nine died within minutes of arriving, Dr. Michael L. Cheatham, a trauma surgeon at the center, said. Of the remaining 35, eight have gone home and 27 were still hospitalized on Tuesday. Six of those 27 are in critical condition, in the intensive care unit. Five others are in guarded condition, and 16 are stable.

Out of the thirty-five injured, there are bound to be those who are newly paralyzed or quadriplegic. Their new disability will be a constant reminder of that horrific night. With the LGBT community’s suicide rate already higher than the national average, the movie Me Before You might end up giving these newly injured individuals a stronger push toward taking their life. This movie tells individuals who become paralyzed or quadriplegic that they have a rightful option to die, because their life will be more difficult and provide less opportunities to make their dreams come true.

The truth of the matter is that people who are disabled, especially those paralyzed or quadriplegic, have a lot of opportunities to live life. They are able to play wheelchair softball, basketball, and rugby. There are adapted tricycles for those with these disabilities. After each Olympics Games, there is the Paralympics Games. At the summer games, these individuals complete in archery, boccia, cycling, powerlifting, rowing, sailing, equestrian sports, table tennis, swimming, sitting volleyball, wheelchair basketball, wheelchair fencing, wheelchair rugby, wheelchair tennis, and more. At the winter games, individuals complete in alpine skiing, biathlon, cross-country skiing, ice sledge hockey, and wheelchair curling. Even if you are paralyzed or quadriplegic, you can still complete in sports on a grand stage.

If you are not athletic, there are many things you can still do as an individual who is paralyzed or quadriplegic. Christopher Reeve is an actor famous for his role as Superman. After his horse-riding accident in 1995, Reeve became a quadriplegic but still continued to work in the movie industry as a director. Reeve also became an activist, serving as the Chairman of the American Paralysis Association and the Vice Chairman of the National Organization on Disability. Reeve also cofounded the Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation and the Reeve-Irvine Research Center, which researched spinal cord injuries and provided grants to individuals who were injured. Reeve wrote two books, Still Me (an autobiography) and Nothing is Impossible: Reflections on a New Life (a book on his views and life experiences). Even as a quadriplegic, Reeve led a fulfilling life.[ii]

Some people have made the argument that assisted suicide is a choice people who are disabled or ill have. People have a choice to live or die. But although those with disabilities do have to grieve some losses, there is so much more to life than giving up and ending it. God gives each individual the gift of life and purpose. If you become disabled later in life, you may question your purpose in the world, but it does not mean God cannot use you anymore. Your purpose has changed—or maybe been redirected. Maybe before becoming disabled you were headed in the wrong direction. Maybe without your disability you could not achieve your full potential. Why would Reeve work so hard to raise awareness and funding for research if life as a quadriplegic was not worth living? As a quadriplegic, Reeve continued to make a difference in the world. I believe my disability, cerebral palsy, has given me a unique perspective. It makes me slow down and allows me to think and reflect on life.

Some people fight to live to meet their grandchildren, and some fight to matter in this world, while others have suffered the terrible loss of burying their loved ones. By contrast, Hollywood decided to produce a movie on the “loving merits” of assisted suicide, even when one of their own, Reeve, fought hard to live and to find a cure for spinal cord injuries.

For me, I think of Nathan. He did not choose or want to die. He fought like hell to live as long as he could. He smiled every day and loved with his whole heart. He shared the kingdom of God with everyone who he met. Nathan always chose life.

For these many reasons, I will not watch Me Before You; I am living loss it portrays and my loved one didn’t have a choice. It’s not entertainment; it the loss of a real person. Like so many others in the disabled community, I have buried my best friend and soul mate and was given a guardian angel far too soon. I and my fellow friends with disabilities know the taste of death, have stood at our peers’ graves far too young, and hold onto their memories. There is nothing romantic about assisted suicide or death.

My days end much like they begin: a gaze at the photograph of Nathan and as I take Erie to bed with me. I survived another day without Nathan’s physical presence. The only comfort I have is knowing he is my guardian angel and continues to protect me in my weakest moments. One day, I will see Nathan again in the kingdom of God, but until then I share his love, wisdom, and memory with everyone I meet. For this reason, I continue to actively choose to live the human experience. I choose life.

[i] Me Before You is a movie based on the novel by Jo Jo Moyes. The storyline follows the unexpected relationship between a small town Englishwoman and the wealthy, paralyzed Londoner. The Englishwoman becomes the man’s caretaker, and their relationship blossoms from there.

[ii] “Christopher Reeve: Actor, Director, and Activist,” Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation, https://www.christopherreeve.org/about-us/christopher-and-dana/christopher-reeve.

Written by Erin M Diericx 2006

My pastor, Father Ladd Harris, constantly tells us, “Death is not a period but a comma.” My church is an older congregation in Florida’s retirement community, so death is a common occurrence. The congregation understands of returning to God after a long life. But our church has recently suffered two deaths that have made us wonder where God is.

Pat was in her mid-70s and perfectly healthy. In early January, she got a cold. Over three months, she continued to get sicker and was hospitalized with an infection the doctors did not understand. Pat struggled for three months to overcome the infection. Her daughters and husband made the difficult decision to take her off life support and to let her go home. Her husband, Jack, never left her side and is now lost without his wife of fifty-four years.

The second death took the life of a nineteen-month-old nephew of a friend and church member, Agda. Her nephew suffered from a heart condition, which requires nurses around the clock. For most of his life, his parents had an intensive care unit in their living room with nurses coming and going constantly. The baby boy fought to live until he no longer had the strength. Where is God in this time of darkness?

Satan introduced death, pain, brokenness, and suffering into the world when he got Eve to eat forbidden fruit. Satan causes our pain and suffering in the world in an attempt to get in between us and God. The world surrounds death with darkness, and Satan finds strength and power in this darkness. The world tells us death is a period—an end to one’s life in the world. We no longer hear our loved ones’ voices, smell their scents, or see their physical bodies. It is finished. Satan rejoices in your sorrow as you mourn the loss of a loved one, because you buy into the ending.

The aftermath of a death leaves all of us—family members, friends, and others asking where God is. How could God take a healthy woman? How could God allow the death of a baby? What was the baby’s calling? Did our loved one die because we let them down in some way? These questions never seem to be resolved in our minds. We tell ourselves that our loved one is in a better place without pain and suffering, which is the truth. But it can be so hard to cling to God’s promises in the midst of death’s darkness.

The Easter promise gives us eternal life with the Triune God in his kingdom, a kingdom without pain or suffering. But it is more than that. Just as Jesus rose again and ascended into heaven, God the Father also raises us up to be in his kingdom. Even at death, God refuses to let the devil get the final say.

When we enter the Kingdom of God, death becomes a journey to eternal life with God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. One day there will be no more death, pain, brokenness, and suffering. The Kingdom of God is a return to the Garden of Eden—the way God originally imagined the world to be.

What if we thought of death as healing? When we die, we enter into the Kingdom of God with no pain, brokenness, or suffering. In God’s kingdom, we will experience wholeness. We will finally experience the life God intended us to have all along. We will have the perfect body. We will experience no pain or suffering. We will be in a relationship with the Triune God—God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit.

God’s love is unconditional and unending. When God the Father sent his only begotten son to die for our sins, he did it out love for his creation—you and me alike. And he did not abandon Jesus Christ on the cross but raised him to new life on the third day. There is no separating us from God’s love, even after death, because he will raise us up to new life. When we die, you become whole in the Kingdom of God. This is why death is not a period but a comma, because it is not an ending but the beginning of a new life with God.

Thanks be to God!