This Week is Not Going Well

I decided a while ago that I was going to tell the truth about my grief journey here. As if I were a reporter from the front lines of some horrendous battlefield, I would tell it as it is happening.

It is happening this week in an ugly way. I am tired. I feel the grief as if I had a flu of some sort. My body feels heavy. It doesn't want to move, exercise, produce, go out, get in the car, do errands, clean...It wants to rest, to sleep.

I've been resisting this urge this week, with varying degrees of success. Yesterday, my spiritual director made a house call, since I didn't want to have to drive home from her office after our session. I knew I was going to cry, a lot, and I know from experience that it can be hard to cope after a heavy bout of crying. I'm so thankful that she was able to fit this visit into her day.

Today, I am going to feel good if I get any sewing done and take a walk. I am going to do my best to do both of those things after I finish writing this.

It's hard to not feel guilty for being unable to perform better than this, when my dear husband gets up and goes to work 5 days a week for us. My son goes to school every day. But this week, the grief is raw and fresh as an open wound, and I would be lying if I pretended it wasn't.

Here is a bit of truth from the front lines: it's been said that the second year after the death of a child is actually worse than the first, for some people. The shock has worn off, and that shock is a powerful buffer. Friends, this is true for me, here and now.

Gregg & I had a conversation the other night, and I will not quote it verbatim. What I will tell you is that we know, WE KNOW, that there is nothing we can do, get, change or make, that is going to make this situation go away. NOTHING. We cannot buy, sell, move, eat, drink, run, divorce, conceive, adopt, exchange, "beg, borrow or steal" our way out of this heartache. It is where we live now. Everything that we worked for, everything that we stood for, everything that we intentionally endeavored to create within our family's life, is broken, and that is a fact.

There is a saying in the Bible, "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be, also." Well, we believed that the greatest of values, the purest treasure, was to be found in loving our family, raising beloved, happy, good-hearted children to send out into the world. Our treasure is in LOVE. We spent the majority of our time and resources investing in that value, spending time together, loving, teaching, sharing, building a healthy and happy home, nurturing our children and our family as a whole, as a unit, as a foursome. We will never on this earth be that foursome again. One of our members has been stolen away. She is gone, and we are not whole.

We spoke of this. It is a hard place to be, and it is hard to witness your beloved in that kind of pain.

We still have our love for one another; we cannot lose love. We have our dear son David. We have a roof over our heads, food in the cupboards, a warm bed to sleep in. Gregg still has a job (so far, so good). I still love God and I know that God loves us. But this one treasure, this precious family, is broken to bits, and it will never be the same again. It can be good between the two of us, and the three of us, but the family that we worked intentionally to nurture is broken, and it will never be the same again.

And that, my friends, is a reason to mourn and to grieve.