It rained buckets here yesterday (smileygirl, it's true -- but you know that, since you have the weather ticker on your "blob" now). The plants loved it, and it was cozy, but it didn't feel like summer. Today it is sunny, breezy and warm, and the air is so clean that you can feel it.
David went to help my dad dig holes (for posts) in their yard, and to buy lumber (they are going to make a rack for firewood). I dropped him off at their house in the morning, and drove to the beach by Maribeth's house. On my way there, I passed the church we used to attend before Katie got sick. They have a new "interim" pastor, and the church has basically imploded. I have never been back.
Immediately after Katie passed away, I couldn't face the attention from all of those loving, kind people who I knew had been hurt by our tragedy, and who had such compassion for us. Then, as the events began to unfold in the church hierarchy, I knew that the church that I loved was falling to pieces. I didn't have the strength to help, nor did I have the energy to watch it implode...so I never went back. When I drove by the parking lot today, there was a chain across the entrance. It perfectly symbolized the impression that I have of the new leadership..."keep out." It broke my heart a little more. That church changed my life for the better, and the lives of my family. It was a place of nurturing, growth, joy, music, support, learning, extended family and unconditional love. My children and I were baptized there; my mother was baptized there. I was a deacon, a Stephen Minister and a volunteer in other capacities; I was part of a (weekly) women's Bible study group for years, attended women's retreats, etc. It hurts to lose the sanctuary that the church was for our family, but there you go. It's been a year full of losses.
I parked the car next to MB's house and walked down the hill to the beach access, and started my walk toward the north. I thought that if I walked on the beach, in the sun, I might be able to cry a little in a familiar place, and feel some comfort. I'm just feeling really sad these days.
I found some beach glass as I walked, felt the lovely breeze and warmth of the sun, and sat down to let myself go. Panic. When I started to cry, I had a real sensation of not being able to breathe. My nose and throat just seemed to close. I had to get up and continue walking, wiping my eyes and nose, and trying to breathe and clear my airway. So I can't even cry when it's safe, when it won't upset anyone else. There I was, far from anyone else, and I couldn't let it out. Strange. So I just started talking to God, to Mary, to Jesus and to Katie, as I walked. I called MB in Kansas City and left a message for her: "I'm on your beach and I'm thinking of you."
When I got to my car, she called back, and we had a long chat. I miss her, but it's so great to have the phone contact. Standing by her house, hearing her voice, helped. She was with me so much at this time last year, and she remembers what I do. She can talk about it; it doesn't wipe her out. I can just let it all out. It has the same effect that crying would (if I could breathe when I cry); the same effect as writing here does. It clarifies; it purifies the air, I can think again, I can get that suffocating weight off of my chest, I can breathe.
Thank God for friends & family who listen, who know they can't fix it; who pray, who love, who hold the sacredness of just BEing. Thank God for bloggers who read and understand, who care, who send love. THANK GOD.
I am listening to David playing the piano as I write this. It's too beautiful for words.