The Shadow of Grief

This has been a hard week and it’s not even close to being over!  I don’t know how to explain profound grief to you, if you’ve never experienced it.  It’s definitely not for the faint of heart.  People have often said that being in a certain place or hearing a song can trigger memories that in turn trigger tears, aka grief.  That’s true in part, but, that simple explanation is only the tip of the iceberg.  I try to cope with the myriad of feelings that come without warning and with no particular trigger, it’s just an overwhelming ache that comes from the gut and when it hits you have no possible way of holding it back.  It feels like your drowning and you have to keep reminding yourself to relax and breathe. 

Something as simple as getting out of the truck and walking toward Walmart with Nic, nothing spectacular but the sorrow that hits you goes deep.  So, your son puts his arm around you as you weep and says, “I know.  It’s ok!”  And you force yourself to keep walking because you tell yourself you need to work through this.  Trying to tell the waitress how you want your egg cooked and you have to look away because you can’t even think of what your normal order would be because you can hardly breathe.  It’s having wonderful friends who simply greet you and ask how your doing, but, the love and concern in their eyes touches your heart so deeply you can’t even formulate a simple sentence without swallowing twenty times before answering.

And then, there are triggers.  Driving away from Toys R Us with gifts in the backseat that Papa was not a part of choosing and you park at the stoplight and choke back more tears because you know he will never be a part of those Christmas traditions again. 

Grief is complicated and painful.

There are moments when you share a memory and it makes you laugh and then you struggle to understand how you can laugh one minute and weep the next.  Those times when your grandbabies jump into your arms and squeeze you tight and you feel guilty because your here and he’s not. 

You have to learn to walk with grief, to embrace it in the moment, but you also have to work hard not to stay in it.  You have to force yourself to go out and get things done because deep down you’d like to stay at home beneath your cozy blanket and forget that there is a world out there.  You become obsessed with understanding Heaven and you read as much as you can because you want to envision where your loved one is.  You wish them back but then you look at the stacks of pill bottles and insulin needles still sitting on your counter and you realize that wish is selfish.

You also understand in your mind that grief is a process and it will take time and you can’t rush yourself through it and that it will not swallow you up even if it feels like it will, but explaining all that to your heart is not easy.  So, you take the tears and the fears and you believe with all your heart and soul that God is right there in the midst of the abyss and He is.

So, if for today all you can do is put one foot in front of the other, if all you can do is lean on your sons to guide you through, if all you can do is breathe a prayer that has no words, if all you can do is completely rely on the prayers of family & friends, well, then that's what you do because this is not going to be a short jog, it will be a marathon.  And just like it was in the hospital when I was watching Wes battle, I had to learn to take it one day, one hour, one minute at a time.

It never stopped the painful ache in my heart and it didn’t prevent the tears from falling, but, it was the only way I could cope. It also helps to know that I am not alone.  Besides my family and my friends I know that God is right here beside me.  I am not alone, He will go before me, He will never leave me. 

And God is good.

Matthew 5:4 Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.