Grief is such a hard journey to walk through. There are days I almost forget the pain, and then days when I am completely overcome. There are days I just want to give up, and days I feel strong. I have moments of peace, and then moments of anger, moments of jealousy, and then moments of guilt. My emotions can turn in a blink, and I often find myself crying over the smallest of things. I've tried to find practical ways to ease the pain, but I'm finding that they are only temporary fixes, the pain always returns by evening.
I've struggled with wanting my life to return to normal. Wanting my schedule to return to normal, wanting my heart to return to normal, wanting my Dad to return to normal, and for our family to be whole again. But there is no normal anymore, there's no going back to what was, and we are all just limping along trying to find our new way of doing life. I can't force my new life into the old box, and expect anything at all to ever be what it was.
We had such a beautiful life with Mom. She really was the best, and her absence is just felt everywhere, in every tiny detail. Every meal we make, every time her chair sits empty, every activity without her, every holiday, every milestone, every new word learned by our children, every new step, every sunrise and every sunset...she is missed. My whole being aches to have her back, but death could never be more final. There's no coming back, and Heaven feels like an eternity away.
I've been told so many things since Mom died. People have told me to rejoice because Mom's in Heaven. People have told me to get rid of her things because she doesn't need them anymore and they mean nothing. People have told me that Mom wouldn't want me to be sad. People have told me to be patient. People have told me not to make any big life changes. People have told me to be kind to myself, and allow the pain to come. I've received so many answers…but nothing erases the pain, nothing heals the separation.
My hope is still in Jesus, and in the promise of Heaven. I talk to Jesus all day long now, because He is all that I have. The world continues to spin around without me, and there is nothing I hate to see more. Don't these people know how much pain we're in? Why haven't their lives stopped too? Why is it just me sitting here isolated in my grief? Am I the only one who remembers my beautiful Mom?
People have gone on with their lives, and assume we're doing OK because on the outside, our lives have continued. Andrew is back to work full time, he's filling in the pulpit when need be, I'm back at church and socializing. I've even found the strength to put myself together and look presentable most days. From the outside, our kids look normal, and our family unit seems fine. But on the inside, I am in so much pain most days, that I have to hide away in the bathroom just to catch my breath, allow the tears to fall, and collect myself. I still spend my days at Dads, coming home in the evening when it's time to put Katelyn to bed. I spend my driving time in the morning and night praying, crying out to God, trying to make sense of all that is happening. I come home every night depleted and exhausted, with very little left to give to the girls and Andrew. They have been so patient with me, knowing this has been hard, but guilt still settles over me by bedtime, feelings of weakness, because I just can't seem to juggle it all.
Grief doesn't care about my to-do lists, the things I have to get done, or the people depending on me. Grief doesn't care when it attacks, when it weakens, when it wounds. It just swallows you up, and rejoices in your brokenness. Grief is ugly, demanding, and cruel. It steals away my truth and replaces it with lies. It tells me life will never get better, and so I live in constant contradiction: what the grief tells me, and what God tells me. It's completely exhausting in every way, a real spiritual battle.
There's no better way to explain it: I'm at battle. I'm fighting to regain my life, regain my joy, regain my peace. I'm fighting for my Dad, for his heart, and the healing needed there. I'm fighting for normalcy, for comfort, for hope. I'm trying to be faithful to God, obedient to Him, and to the truths Mom taught me. I'm trying to walk through the pain, anticipating the promise of God's delivery. I'm trying so very hard, but being attacked with every step I take. I am at battle.
Please keep praying for us, keep praying for these things I've shared. It's not easy to let people into your grief, it's not always easy to be transparent and vulnerable, so I ask for your support, and not words of correction. The Holy Spirit will do the leading and correcting when needed, what we really need from you is just love and support. Thank you for walking this journey with us, and being patient with our brokenness.
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