Mixed-up Grieving

Grieving is strange.  You start out grieving one thing, usually the obvious thing.  In this case, the loss of someone you loved.  But then you find that you are grieving so much more. 

Brian's dad is gone.  He died three weeks ago today, laying in his bed, watching TV.  We had almost a year warning, as he was diagnosed with terminal cancer in his tongue and mouth last year.  You're still never ready to lose a parent, and no one realized he was as close as he was to meeting Jesus.

Complicating that grief is...knowing that the turmoil-filled relationship Brian and his dad had when he was a child mirrors the relationship Brian has with Nick, in a lot of ways.  It's pretty eerie, actually.  Oh, how we love and miss that boy...but the decision we made was what is best for all of us.  I hope someday he will understand.  Brian did come to understand why his dad "gave up" on him, many years later.  I still remember the day Brian's dad sobbed while he told Brian he was sorry for all that happened.  I'm glad he had that chance.

Brian is doing the same job his dad did for 23 years...driving a truck.  I hope that is a comfort to him, but it is so hard on us here at home.  The kids need him.  I need him.  And he needs us.  But a man's got to do what a man's got to do...

And then there is the accident crap.  We're sneaking up on four years.  FOUR YEARS.  It's really hard to believe it's been that long.  On the other hand, it seems this has been our life forever now.  I find myself not focusing so much on what once was, with just the occasional glimpse back to what we didn't know was a simpler time.

All of these things are all balled up in one big ball of grief.  There are so many days it is just one foot in front of the other for us.  Most days are that way for me lately.  We'll keep moving forward though.  There's not really another option.

Our hope is in the One Who knows how it will all come together for good...

Christmas Eve

Here I sit, in the dark,
enjoying the twinkle of the lights on the tree,
envisioning the smiles the pile of presents will bring.
Loving my children...all of them.
The four snuggled up in their beds,
and the one snuggled in another house.
Our second Christmas without him.
Only this year, we know it's going to stay this way.

I am sorry, sorry to all of my children.
I cannot lessen this pain for you.
I can only love you through it,
and hope that one day,
long in the future,
things will be made right.
And maybe we'll all understand why this had to happen.

Because right now?  We just don't know...

Waves

Emotions come in overwhelming waves, good or bad.

When a wave of peace rushes over me, I know that we are making the right choices.  That we are going where God wants us to go in life.  That He will work out all the details and every single thing will be just fine.  No, better than fine!

And then there are times, when the waves of loss, of sorrow, of agony wash over me.  I can't breathe.  There is a physical pain in my chest and my gut.  I wonder if life can really go on.  I know we will never make it out of this in one piece.

Those waves can come and go multiple times in a day.  The feelings are real.  The place they come from are very real and valid.  I even think I *must* experience these waves, or there is no going forward at all.

But this I know.  My. God. Is. Faithful.  He is the Rock I cling to, and I will remember the gentle waves of peace and comfort even when those are not the waves I see this moment.

We will make it through...

Loss

When you endure a loss that knocks you to your knees...

When day by day, someone you love more than life just...slips away...

When there is nothing you can do to stop it...

When people try to comfort that this loss is not so bad...

When all you can do is cry...alone...

...God is there.

When a child dies, people grieve with you.  When an unborn baby is lost, many understand.

But this loss...this one very few know.  The loss of losing a child who lives on still.  The day by day, little by little loss of a child, but not to death, not to disease, not even to harmful things of their own choosing.  The loss of a child to a mother who hates his father.  The loss of a child to a mother who hates God.

This is the loss of a child.  My child.  We are losing him.  We have already lost him.  I'll always be his mom, and he'll always be my son.  People don't understand, but he is already gone...

And yet, the rest of "us" have to go on.