Loving a Believer

Chapter 32: Death is Not the End

S T O R M

I'm sorry.

I received a message from Demi on my Instagram. I just stared on my cellphone's screen, deciding what to reply - but I was spacing out. After a while, I heaved a sigh and released my phone on my office table.

Months already passed since that night had happened. Actually, I didn't expect that she would message me. I thought she was mad at me because the pain of our past came back to her; and because of what she had done when we were in her room, I couldn't help but rebuke her that night...

When I felt her lips touched mine, my hands automatically moved to push her gently. I stared at her with eyes widened. She just stared back at me.

"I'm sorry. I love my wife," I said with brows slightly furrowed. There I saw pain in her eyes.

Holy anger filled my heart. I didn't like what she had done. It drove me really mad.

I stood up and looked at her sharply. "Please, Demi. Stop this. We'll never get back together again... Never again..." I told her.

Tears rolled down her cheeks but I didn't regret what I'd said. I meant it. I didn't want to hurt her but I knew this was the right thing to do - to make her false hope come to an end.

I wanted to tell her more things but I didn't want to hurt her more, so I just left her room.

I took a deep breath and picked up my phone again. I replied.

Just repent it to God.

Wala pa mang ilang segundo, nagreply siya nang sunod-sunod.

I already did.

I was just so exhausted

You were right, Dylan. God is good. He didn't deny our daughter.

Check my recent post.

I followed what she said. I clicked her profile and checked her recent post. It was Shekinah's picture. I clicked it and stared at the picture. She was in her wheelchair, wearing a sweet smile. I felt a lump in my throat because I missed her again.

I read the caption below.

When my daughter died, it shook my faith to its core. I screamed at God and avoided Him for a long time. I blamed Him for my daughter's death over and over.

He let me do that.

One day, He made me realize that He wasn't the one who took my daughter from me. My inability to protect her from the curse in my family did that. The imperfection of life did that.

God was there with my daughter when she fought for her life, to help her not be scared and to take her into heaven with Him.

God cried with me when my child passed away in the bed, and my entire soul wailed. God held me tight and never let me go, even while I pushed Him away, screamed at Him and accused Him of taking my baby from me.

He raised me up when I didn't want to exist without my daughter. He walks my dark valley with me every moment. He provides oxygen for me to breathe in when my mourning and agony suffocate me. He holds the shards of my heart in His hands and makes each of them keep beating. He gives me courage and strength to live and face the world again with full of hope that comes from Him.

He doesn't cause my suffering. He suffers with me and for me. He feels the pain when I am in pain.

God is not cruel to cause me pain that will destroy me and my faith. He allows this pain to prove me that He will never leave me nor forsake me even when I think that death is the end of all.