When Grief Sneaks Up

My daughter's neighbor died today. It was sudden and unexpected. He was a man in his early fifty's and left behind a wife and two children, a daughter of 14yrs. and a son of high school age. They are a nice family and my daughter feels the loss with them.

Although I didn't know this family I can't help but feel that aching bereavement for those left behind. I know the weight of loss and it never gets lighter. The irony is the person you lost is the very person you want to talk to about your grief.

Somehow, in those first few days grace carries us and we overcome the shock of it. We muddle through funeral arrangements and financial decisions and unknowingly gain an iota of strength. But in the aftermath true mourning begins.

We prepare ourselves for it to accompany us to anniversaries, birthdays and holidays. But when grief sneaks up on us and clings like plastic wrap it robs us of breath. The suffocating awareness and overwhelming stab of loss pierces our armor and we're left sobbing in the middle of a grocery isle, or other chance places. 

That little bit of perceived strength we acquired immediately turns to water and our first inclination is to hide the tears. We're embarrassed and vulnerable. Grief doesn't follow the rules. It doesn't come with an expiration date and it isn't kept out by a 'No Entry' sign.

It's been nearly nineteen years since my daughter passed away suddenly, and the grief still strangles me sometimes at the softest whisper. If we are going to survive the agony we must give ourselves permission to grieve. No matter -- public or private. No one, not even ourselves have the right to speak into our lives about processing grief. 

Sometimes in the midst of that crushing sadness a humble human comes along. We're shown compassion and kindness. Our spirit is once again lifted to a place where grace is free and strength doesn’t need to be earned. 

Other times we will walk the path of grief alone at our own pace. But we will come into our own peace, in our own time. And there is love and comfort in Jesus who is near to the brokenhearted and comforts those whose spirits are crushed. 

 

Happy New Year!

This past Christmas 2020 was not a merry one. I can't say it was my most sorrowful, but it was less than sweet.  

Like many other families, the Covid virus interrupted our holiday gathering and essentially put an end to our traditional home for Christmas. And, I am still saddened and perplexed about an incident that took place a few days before.

But there were also some twinkles in our Noel. My youngest daughter and her family took us to see the Carnival of Lights at Jellystone Park. We returned home and reviewed the highlights of our outing. The ocean scene was a favorite with jumping dolphins and a waterfall all done in blue lights. But, the one that gave us the most laughs was when Jeremy accidentally lost sight of the road and nearly drove us into an empty field. 😂 Fun times!

Christmas Eve was the usual celebration at third daughter's house. This year being a bit different because we all brought our gifts there instead of "home". And in jest maintaining that the party was indeed due to second daughter's Christmas Eve birthday.

On Christmas day hubby and I still feasted on our time honored Christmas dinner. Later in the day we enjoyed more time with youngest daughter at her house playing games. She came up with a cute idea to wrap up some new games as well as some old favorites. Then, whichever one our granddaughter unwrapped, we would play one round of that game. It was an enjoyable time with lots of laughs.

But now, Christmas is behind me and the new year looms before me.

This New Year like so many before has come to mean a new beginning, a fresh challenge and especially hope. Hope, that feeling of expectation and desire for some achievement or aspiration; a light at the end of the dark and dreary tunnel. 

I too, am hopeful. I'm hopeful that the SARS-CoV-2 vaccine does it's job and the end of Covid-19 is near. And hopeful that my family, my husband and I continue to be blessed with good health. Hopeful that bitterness is put to rest and love conquers.

So, I go forward in this new year hoisting the banner of hope. I anticipate it flying above me. But not beyond my reach so that I can grasp it and wrap myself in it's warm embrace whenever I feel the intermittent heaviness of life or the raw temptation of despair.