He Sometimes Smelled Like Onions
Grief and loss are funny things. You never really know until it’s your turn exactly how it will impact your life or how you personally will deal with it. With Brynna, we’ve become accustomed to feeling the grief and loss of everyday things; constantly reminded things didn’t turn out the way we planned sixteen years ago.
Every year that passes is an eclectic mix of joy and sorry, triumph and defeat as we pass the times for different milestones and markers, realizing another round we didn’t experience. Though it never really goes away, you learn to live with it; adjust, adapt, and overcome with the help of Holy Spirit and a loving community. You learn to cherish the ups and lean hard on one another in the downs. You celebrate everything and enjoy every moment. You even learn to look ahead, see things coming, and prepare your heart long before the event takes place.
But this has been different; an entirely new roller coaster of emotion, fraught with unsuspected turns, drop-offs, bumps, and emotional loops. The truth is, you never know when “it” is going to hit you. By “it” I mean the wave of sadness and sorrow that seems kept at bay most of the time as you glide through everyday life. Grief is a sneaky Ninja, creeping in for a surprise attack when you least expect it and from behind corners you never thought to clear. Tonight was one of those nights for me.
When Eli, you may know him as Peter, came to our home at 15. As with all foster children, he came to us with his own unique personality, his own way of doing things, and his own view of how the world worked and made sense. When you bring children into your home, there are certain things that stand out as “different”; things that make them uniquely them; things that will forever bring a smile to your face, and maybe a few tears rolling down your cheek.
For Eli, it was onions. Well, maybe not actual onions, per se, but the smell of onions. As any fifteen-year-old boy does, Eli would sweat like crazy when he played basketball, ran track, or mowed the yard. If you’ve had teenage boys in your home, you know all too well of which I speak! But this time, it was different. This time … it was onions!
We first noticed it in the car. We were on our way someplace and everyone noticed a strong smell of onions in the car. Like we had just picked up burgers for twelve! But no one could place its origin. We soon figured out it wasn’t a “what”, but a “who” we were looking for. This boy smelled like onions when would sweat! I mean, not just a little, but like a fresh Dairy Palace, all the way third-pound hamburger with extra onion!
We even took him to the doctor to make sure something wasn’t wrong. Nope, it was just his chemical makeup and natural way. The solution was simple: antibacterial soap and VOILA, no more onions!
At first, it was alarming, then it became a challenge to defeat, a conquest, and later, a good-hearted family joke that went something like, “Eli, we had hamburgers last night and I thought you’d come by for a visit!” W’ed all laugh, Eli, too.
But now … every time we smell onions, a knowing smile crosses our faces as we remember the son we will only see again in Glory. It happened to Tammy today, and it happens to me, too … all the time.
Psalm 34:18 says,
“The Lord is near the brokenhearted; he saves those crushed in spirit.”
No more true a statement could be made during dark nights of the soul. Truly He is closer than a brother, a very strong shelter in times of trouble … and He is Good.
Hug your loved ones today … even if … and maybe especially if … they smell like onions.
