When a Horrible Thing Happens

by Brandon Jubar

My wife's mom just died. That's a very abrupt way to begin, but then again, that's exactly the way it happened. Abruptly. And I didn't refer to Andi as my mother-in-law because I don't like the negative connotations that term holds for many people. She was a "mom"; and if you don't know her personally, then the warm feelings that come to mind when you hear that word will get you much closer to understanding what a wonderful lady she was.

As far as we knew, she was in very good health. In fact, she seemed to be in better health than she'd been in years! To say that we were shocked to hear the new is a gross understatement. But really... how can you describe something like this?

Andrea Carpenter was an incredible person. She was a loving wife, a supportive mother, a doting "nana", and a caring friend. When our family moved from Michigan to Texas, I think the most difficult thing for my wife -- Andi's only daughter -- was being so far away from her mom. Yet even with 2,000 miles separating them, they managed to stay in frequent contact and remained extremely close.

I received a call from my wife, Gina, around 6am EST. I was actually in Michigan on business when she got the call from her dad before 4am, El Paso time. I can't even begin to describe to you how helpless I felt trying to comfort her over the phone... or how heart-rending it was to be listening on the speakerphone when she had to tell our two sons that their nana had passed away. Their wailing turned to crying, and the crying became sobbing, and all I could do was listen over the phone, tears streaming down my face because I couldn't reach out and comfort the ones I love the most in this world.

How could this happen? How could God allow this? Did God do this? I'm sure that the death of a loved one never seems fair, but it's difficult to see how any good could ever come from this. Why did she have to go right now?

I understand the stages of grief, and I'm sure I'm going through them. Denial? To some degree. I couldn't believe it was real. I kept thinking that maybe I would wake up and everything would be back to the way it was. But I keep waking up each morning and nothing has changed, so I can't deny it anymore. Time for stage 2.

And that's where I find myself today. Angry. Angry that God would let her die. Angry that her doctor didn't see any warning signs. Angry that I was 2,000 miles away from Gina and the boys when it happened. Angry that I can't do anything to make it all go away; that I can't fix this horrible thing! I'm just angry at it all!

But there's a part of me that knows my anger isn't helpful. It's not surprising, but it's not making the situation any better; so hopefully I'll continue through the stages of grief. Although there's not much to "bargain" for at this point, I'm sure that depression and acceptance, the last 2 of the 5 stages, will eventually come.

Yet I can't help but wonder why such a wonderful person, with what looked like at least 2 or 3 decades of life and happiness ahead of her, could be taken from us so suddenly. My friends, I must admit, it's a very difficult test of faith when I have the privilege and honor of knowing a person as wonderful as Andrea Carpenter, and then such a bad thing happens to her. It's a question that many people wiser than me have tried to answer, and I've read much of what they've written over the years. But all the philosophical essays and spiritual reflections in the world can't stop the pain when a loved one has gone home to heaven. The wisdom of the ages simply rings hollow when such a horrible thing happens.

Please pray that all of Andi's family and friends can find strength and comfort during this difficult time.

Peace,
~Brandon