Tuesday, May 6, 2014

A memory made is a memory lost...

Today was especially heart wrenching. After 2 and a half weeks we took my mommy to the airport and shared a tearful goodbye. The time flew by, as we kept busy with shopping, sight seeing, eating and just hanging out. It was such a wonderful time and I so cherished every moment. The happiness was laced with some bittersweet sadness however. In a stark realization it became clear- that with every memory made with my Mommy, a memory was lost with my Daddy. This was the first time she came to visit since we lost him nearly 5 months ago. He should have been here too. A trip was planned last summer that he never made. Many trips were planned because he loved to travel, especially to see us. He would happily go along for the ride, anywhere we took him, any place we wanted to show him. These weeks were full of moments spent imagining what he would be doing. I pictured him sitting on my deck with his morning coffee, as he so loved to do. Or tinkering around Lee's garage, looking at tools and projects. I longed for him to fix my broken drawers, as he had before and ask me if he could use his amazing engineering skills to mend something. I imagined him laughing and smiling at all of Macie's antics, and happily riding along through the mountains. I missed him when I crawled in bed beside my mama for late night talks, as I used to do with both of them. I heard things he would have said, and mentioned several times

"Dad would have loved that."
  Today was a day with many tears. The bittersweet joy of the last two weeks overtook my heart. The times we take for granted, the stolen memories of loss were overwhelming today. I cried the entire way home from the airport, my vulnerability so quickly revealed to a 2 year old.
I cried out to God today. Asking him to heal my body of its physical ailments that have been so exacerbated by the emotional war of grief. I asked him to relieve me from this road I'm walking, that seems to only become more difficult, the mountain more strenuous to climb. 
Five months is almost half a year. In some respects the time has flown with a quickness unparalleled by any other life event, yet waned so slowly, I often think I couldn't get through the day. Some days I lie in bed dreading the day, begging God to make it fast so I could just crawl back in bed, fall asleep and pretend the nightmare didn't exist. 5 months of time. Half a lifetime ahead to discern how it is that I am supposed to survive without him. I know I am blessed to have had the relationship I shared with my Daddy. The grief is so deep, so real, so raw, and so painful, that it can only indicate a real and loving and loving relationship I shared.   And for many, this type of relationship doesn't exist and never will.  They may not experience the angst that I do, so for that distinction, I am ever so grateful. 

  Yet, now is when I walk the journey with God alone. My days are so lonely. I feel so disconnected from the world that has moved on without me. I am left behind to navigate these uncharted waters. As we were warned, the daily support stops here but the pain doesn't. People continue with life, and even my dearest friends have stopped checking in. Perhaps they forget, or they are tired of hearing about my grief, or afraid they may cause me to cry. Even my husband forgets to hug me a little more or ask how I'm doing more often than I needed prior to experiencing my loss. I don't blame anyone, I cannot be angry at those who have never walked this journey of losing a parent. I cannot judge those who aren't sure what support is needed, or fear that asking the question, "How are you? I mean, REALLY?" that I so desperately crave may invoke a response they don't have time to process. 

God has placed some extraordinary people,in my life, who have walked this road before me, friends with whom I would never have expected such a bond to form. Yet now, alone, I must muddle through my days. With ceasing support, the grief worsens. One would expect the pain to lessen with the passing minutes, hours and days. But as time traipses on, at least for me, there is no lessening. Only a distinct realization that this journey may be just a little heavier for me in comparison with others.  As I have read and heard and learned, the grief journey is entirely different for one than for another. There should be no time limit, and no one can judge me for taking things a lot longer. Only now can I begin to see the lessons I am learning. This has been the time during which my faith has been most tested, and my personal growth so strong and excruciatingly painful. It is not cliché to say that one doesn't understand until they go through it themselves. Indeed empathy is a real and true emotion. It is, I believe, one of the traits God instilled in our experience, a triumph of spirit that turns to nourish another in their darkest hour. That has been my prayer all along, that my journey, and my writings may only act to strengthen and comfort another...
And now, today is over. My heart is heavy as I miss both my Mommy and my Daddy. Others have even told me that it is time to move forward, to my "new normal." Well, I am not ready for that.  Five months to others may seem more than ample to progress out of grief. But here I sit at day one all over again.  I still spend the majority of my days merely existing, reminding my brain to remind my heart that he is really gone... And tomorrow may very well be another day of two steps forward, three steps back. Or better yet, tomorrow may be the day the sun returns to my heart. 

I so love this quote from a devotional on grief that I am reading...Thanks Mom for sharing it with me and walking this journey beside me...This is SO where I am!

Over time, the grooves of this new knowledge wear themselves into our brains, but it will take a while, and we will have many relapses--desperate yearnings for our loved ones to again fill their accustomed places.

But eventually the memory of their having shared this or that particular experience will carry a poignant gratitude for all the times they were with us. And we will find the power to go it alone."


1 comment:

  1. ugh. tears. pit in my tummy. the way you are feeling is so real and you have expressed it through words perfectly. love you friend and I am so sorry you have to feel such pain. keep writing (pouring) you heart on to those pages. and thanks for sharing them with us.