Sudden Grief

By Phil Stoddart,

Lowestoft, UK

The A12 between Lowestoft and Ipswich is notorious for accidents: it twists and turns and rises and falls and at night is particularly treacherous, as long stretches lie in darkness and the sudden lights of an oncoming vehicle can be dazzling even when dipped. On the last night of June 2006, it was busier than usual. A Red Hot Chili Peppers concert at the football ground of Ipswich Town was over and five happy youngsters were part of a steady stream of cars returning home to Lowestoft.

Claire Stoddart (18), had not been looking forward to driving through the Ipswich traffic. So driving back on the A12, she must have been quite pleased with herself by the time the car approached the little village of Blythburgh. Whatever she was thinking, in the space of a few seconds it no longer mattered. The world suddenly came to an end for herself, her sister Jenny (15) and her friend Carla (18). Also dead were two other people in a car that suddenly appeared over a hill on the wrong side of the road. Dazzling headlights must have been the girls’ last sight before impact. The 22-year-old driver suffered a broken leg and was later convicted of causing death by careless driving while unfit due to drink.

As for us, Claire and Jenny’s parents, we were woken in the early hours of the morning by a telephone call from Ipswich Hospital saying that Claire had been in an accident. Soon we were driving down the A12, listening to worship songs and trying to contact Jenny who had not been mentioned. We couldn’t understand why there was no reply, until we reached a diversion point just after Blythburgh.

We drove past the barriers and were stopped by two policemen. I discovered that the critically-ill driver of a Vauxhall Astra had been air-lifted to a hospital near Great Yarmouth. I knew this would be Claire and so the person at Ipswich must have been Jenny. Ipswich Hospital obviously didn’t know which of our girls they had.

I fell to the ground weak and desperate while Heather gazed at the wreckage of the cars. The police wanted to drive us to the hospital but I realised that this would delay us from getting back to our other children Amy (12) and Tom (6). So we drove on, turning to Jesus for strength and comfort.

The news at the hospital was grim: Jenny was only breathing artificially. We sank into a sofa and waited with little hope for results from a brain scan. I found it hard to settle so I wandered outside for a few moments in the fresh air. ‘Lord, I so need you,’ I confessed before returning to Heather who could barely move. We started praying and in those moments God met with us and began to counter the fear and dread.

I was strengthened sufficiently to respond to the news that Jenny had passed away and to see her on the hospital bed. We asked to be alone because I wanted to pray over her with no interference. Her face looked swollen but peaceful as though sleeping. I knew God could bring her back if He wanted. Yet, even as I asked, I recognised His calm, reassuring voice saying, ‘No, she is home with Me.’

Homecoming
God’s strength carried us through the paperwork of organ donation for both Jenny and Claire. We drove back to Lowestoft and called on our good friends Mike and Sue Betts. All the leaders of the church were there and we just collapsed into their arms as the sorrow was overwhelming. But as we cried and prayed, God strengthened us again.

When we arrived home, there were family, church folk and school friends of the girls filling the house and garden. I guess no one knew where else to be and my first reaction was to hug people as words seemed useless. I sat in the garden for a while in an eerie silence, but it was hard to stay in one place. Where do you put yourself, how do you hide from knowledge?

I kept staggering back between house and garden, occasionally falling down in a mass of tears, overwhelmed by loss. All the time, people drew in to offer comfort as I lay there so glad not to be alone.

Worn out with sorrow I sat back against the garden fence and closed my eyes. I became aware of brilliant light and sensed the presence of Jesus. His clothes were shining white and comfort radiated from him. Instantly I understood he was not going to abandon me. Contrary to my five senses, the mighty, radiating presence of Jesus was there; his strength would be enough, for I had none. In fact I felt so weak that it seemed my whole body was in the process of closing down. Yet all I had to do was focus upon him, standing there like a mighty captain guarding a wounded soldier. I was utterly in his hands and he knew and accepted me completely.

Later in the day we had to go to the other hospital to identify Claire. As we stood over her I spoke a prayer of thanks for her life and resolutely acknowledged that death was merely a passing from one place to another. Only a Christian can say this with real conviction; I was not voicing a desperate hope, I was uttering a complete truth. Our daughter Amy stepped forward to say goodbye and I was so proud of her in that moment. Something in my spirit knew she would not fall, that whatever her age or maturity of faith, it would be no barrier to God. He would be more than sufficient to see her through this.

Sudden Grief

The joy of Christ
In the next few days we had to formally identify Jenny which meant driving past the crash site again but at least Amy had the opportunity to say goodbye, as she had with Claire. Flowers and cards poured into the house and we discovered that many churches were praying for us and that brought much comfort. Church people turned up regularly and cooked meals and spent plenty of time with us.

With both Heather and me being teachers, a number of colleagues from our respective schools regularly visited us, as did some of the girls’ school-friends. They were very welcome and brought the best comfort they could offer, but there was nothing quite so refreshing as the people of God.

People with no clear faith can be kind and stand with you in so many ways, but they cannot help you with death as they know nothing of what lies beyond. A Christian knows death for what it really is, and so can help to ease the pain and even confront it. Particularly soothing are those who have a deep walk with God, those who are used to experiencing His presence and power. There is inside them a joy and a peace that darkness cannot overcome; they are beacons of brightest light to those who walk in the darkest of places.

Also softening the sadness of loss was an astonishing joy brought by the Holy Spirit. We laughed and joked with our friends and seemed to grow in awe of the wonders of heaven that were now upon Claire and Jenny. The agony of death was unable to overpower us as the Lord of Life moved among us. On one occasion I saw in a vision Jesus take hold of my and Heather’s hands and together we began to step forward. As we walked, I noticed a number of our Christian friends walking purposefully with us and it seemed that every step we took proclaimed the victory over death.

If only I could say that this joy was so dominant that grief ran away. The reality was that joy and grief occupied the same house. Even now, I would still describe myself as being on a roller-coaster between the two. But in those early days, the awful and utter sense of loss would at times overwhelm me. My body would give way to a physical nausea and my mind would collapse into a pit of sheer misery. But always the hand of Jesus would pull me up and as I became more aware of him the joy would surge. One thing I can say without doubt is that the tears shed within the majesty of his presence outnumbered by far those that fell from despair.

Beyond death
My point of contact with the girls is now caught up in my relationship with Christ. Sometimes during worship I find my focus changing from being purely on Jesus to taking in something of heaven itself. On a number of occasions I have had visions where every person and creature is filled with the knowledge of him and their very beings vibrate in worship and wonder. This is Claire’s and Jenny’s inheritance, and one day I too will follow.

Such a hope encourages me to live well for today. The danger of my bereavement is that their death could somehow become mine. But I have already died and I am in Christ. In 1 Thessalonians 4:13 I am told not to grieve as unbelievers do. This is no harsh command but a reminder to walk continuously in my new life where death has lost its sting.

If you would like to read more of Phil’s testimony to the greatness of God A12 to Heaven is a full account of his experience.

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Sudden Grief

By Phil Stoddart,

Lowestoft, UK

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