You seemingly traipse forward through this life, half convinced you are finally ok, and then, unknowingly, unsuspectingly, unexpectedly, it returns to sideswipe you, and suddenly you are thrust back into the deepest pit, spending the remainder of your day in bed, in tears again, sobbing as if today was the funeral, not 11 months and 1 week ago...
And you wonder what happened? Just today you were "fine" and felt happy and joyful, pressing forth in Christmas activities and planning, trudging your way though the season. You almost had yourself believing what you thought was a self-fufilling prophecy, that if you fake it you'll make it.
Subconsciously you decided that you wouldn't "go there" in your mind. You wouldn't allow yourself to revisit the suffering of one year ago, that each and everytime you remembered a date or an experience you would put an immediate stop to it, and you had yourself convinced it was finally actually working...
Until...
You realized your birthday is coming and it was on your birthday last year that you heard the words "THE CANCER IS BACK." And then your brain returns to those final 2.5 weeks of his life and you let yourself go there, albeit slowly, and in an instant you are reliving the awfulness of the suffering. Just the thought that he couldn't eat Thanksgiving dinner last year, because he had returned to being in his bed all the time, and we weren't sure why yet, we hadn't heard the bad news for the second time. Turkey, and stuffing and mashed potatoes was the trigger this time. The catalyst for the pain and angst of the grief flame flaring and burning bright again, and you are sent spiraling back into that dark place.
And you realize how lonely grief is. Despite the empathy you receive from others, grief is isolating. You are back on the island again, though you rationalize that you aren't, that other people get it, and they do, yet they don't and once again you are treading water out there in the ocean. You realize you are afraid to open up, even to your husband, and you have yourself believing that no one cares anymore, and they are tired of hearing your woes. You've even heard from those who have lost someone that a year is the turning point, and that time heals all wounds. And you want to scream! And you wonder why that is not the case for your grief! And what of those who hardly experience any grief at all? Did they discover the magic ticket to escaping the most gut wrenching pain of mourning? Or did they truly just not have a relationship so deep that grief was the only outlet for the love they felt?
And so you keep your mouth silent. And people forget that like oil and water, the holidays and grief don't mix well. And you try not to get swallowed up in it, and live alone in your quest to pretend you are ok. You decide the best strategy is to be insanely busy and you try it and it works for awhile. And as most plans do, that are not orchestrated by God, they fail and we are back at square one again. And you wake up with that breathtaking anxiety you once had. The kind that woke you up from dead sleep and left you gasping for air in the realization that he was really gone. And in a blink of an eye, those moments are back once again.
Because that is just how Grief plays the game...
And you realize that the Holidays are the biggest suckage of your energy and emotionality. He died ONE WEEK before Christmas last year. And now, the next two weeks of THIS year are just taking me down those last two heartwrenching weeks of watching him fade away to nothing. But perhaps by keeping myself insanely busy with the coming holiday season I am doing myself a sincere disservice? That perhaps the answer is to allow myself to dig deep, hunker down and just muck around IN THE GRIEF. To allow myself to stay in it, to just be there, for a time, not forever, but for a time enough to experience it, and then move once again out of it and back into the world, never assuming that was the last visit, because true grief is never over. Parts of it lessens truly, and part strengthens, but it is impossibly never ever over.
And you realize that you held on so deeply to that grief to hang on to the person you were grieving for. And that allowing yourself to swim deep in that dark pit of grief allowed you to have some semblance of a connection with the departed. And you believed that if you started to somehow lose your grip with grief, or if it somehow let you go back out into the world with some replacement, something even such as JOY, you would feel guilty enough to return to the grief for the hope that you can again connect to your loved one...
"Grief is LOVE with no place to go"
And now as I spent the last 4 hours crying in such an unplanned plunge into the darkness, I poke my head out now and I realize that my plans to attempt to avoid all this are thwarted by God Himself. Not only does he want us to experience this wholly and fully, but He uses our darkest times of grief to heal and strengthen us for His glory. And He encourages us to revisit the muck, because it is during those bleakest of moments He does his very best work. In the brokenness we become redeemed. And our God, is in the weary business of redemption, yet He never grows tired of the work. And it is ok to be in the pain, the muck, the deep, the dark of night. Because soon, the sun will rise and with the morning comes the brightest light.
And Grief is the final act of Love you can give someone...
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