I happily admit to everyone I couldn’t have survived that grief journey without God pulling me up out of the black pit and putting me back on the path numerous times. While that’s certainly true, it doesn’t begin to convey the pit hours I spent crying at life’s unfairness, my children’s needs, my hopeless future, our business’ uncertain future, my weakness, my fears, my uncertainness, and my loneliness.
For months I dissolved into tears every night and twice on Sunday. Silly as that seems, going to church and sitting quietly listening to the preacher brought tears every time. Finally I quit going to church for several months.
Eventually I got my emotions under control enough to last through a service. I think church made me cry because my emotions were so close to the surface that the least tenderness, sympathy, deep thinking, or thoughtful observations broke through the tender skin, and the tears overflowed.
Since I didn’t used to be such a baby, I’ve decided that the shock of Robert’s sudden death was what penetrated my being so deeply that it took months into years to even out my temperament again. Shock is acute stress reaction according to Wikipedia, and “is a psychological condition arising in response to a terrifying or traumatic event.” Yep, that nails it right on the head. And eventually it gets better. I promise it does.
I developed a motto in which I truly believe: God will lead you on the grief journey, but you have to get out of bed!
“O Lord …You have kept me alive, that I should not go down to the pit.” Psalm 30:3 (NKJV)
Getting out of bed is still hard for me, after all these years he is the first thing I think of when I get up, my first words are “Good morning, I need your help in getting through this day” . If it is a special day such as a child or grandchild’s birthday, graduation or something else special I still have such a hard time getting through the day. On these special days I still feel anger that I am representing “Us” and it is just one of us. Just today my oldest son was telling me how much he wished his Dad was here to show the mule he is riding to, Gary loved a good mule and would have been so happy about this news. When we include him in our conversations it feels good to know these are wonderful memories, but the “I wish he was here to see or so I could show him” still is so painful and I feel like we were all cheated by such an early death: (.
Was thinking of you today, Mary, when thinking about how well Jacey is doing in college, and I know you want to share that with Gary. Love you.