I’ve read several accounts of being lost at sea, and the description of the doldrums never fails to alarm me. Can you imagine being stuck in a sun burned ocean?
The moment when a breeze starts to pick up the crew brightens and the vessel begins to show life.
I have had my sails trimmed into an induced doldrums for the past few months.
This week marks the one year point for Brian to be in heaven.
I remember my dad saying to me one week after Brian died: “It’s been a week. Next week it will be two, then three.”
I didn’t know how I survived the first week—but I did, and his words were a gentle reminder that I could possibly survive time I couldn’t even imagine.
It’s been a year.
I remind myself that time must pass. My heart has developed a direct link to my tears, and the heaviness is truly physically painful. Sorrow is stifling. I’ve known sorrow, but the layers of it have given me a different experience.
The doldrums have given me time to process and manage the pain.
I’m thankful to trim my sails and my life down to just a few people right now, Ed and Cherie, primarily, my mom and dad. Anyone else dealing with this shared grief has been more of a balm to my spirit than whom I can help. I trust that people can understand that. I’m thankful for words of encouragement, for prayers, for thoughtful words.
I’m still in pain.
Pain changes things.
Don’t expect anyone at Corgi Hollows to be the same again. We’re changed. Different. We’re not the people we were.
For me, it seems that things I loved to do with Brian are especially sad and painful. I seek things completely different. My taste in music has changed, media, even the places we went I avoid for the most part. “Firsts” are important, and I’ve interspersed these things throughout the year, but the pain is unpredictable, and I prefer to avoid them.
New things. Different things.
Don’t judge me! Grief should never be judged. Those of us who are living it are simply trying to manage existence.
I know God allowed this pain. Jesus mourned too. He experienced emotions and pain. Why in the world did God created emotion?
Perhaps to give God glory—-
Philip Yancey wrote a book about pain years ago. I read it, and I haven’t forgotten the “blessing” of pain that he wrote of. Pain, something we avoid mostly, is a blessing of warning to the body’s stress. Perhaps I should see emotion like that. It is a blessing of expression.
These are thoughts from the doldrums.
The sun is shining. I’m listening to “Hitchville” today, a local group who has ties to some of my friends. Country music—Corgi Hollows???
Coping. Change. Time passing.
Waiting for the breeze.
As you begin your second year, know that it will be different. Sometime I hope to talk with you about it after a while. As I read your writing, I feel that grief pain deep in the pit of my stomach. I tried too early to have lunch at the Lowell Inn by myself. Lasted about 5 minutes after I got my food. I wasn’t up to that one. So keep mixing up your days and get enough variety to counteract some of those emotions. But it’s kind of like pushing a wave back into the ocean. It will come unexpectedly. Eventually, you won’t be observing the wave so much and it won’t have the power it has now.
I am very proud of you. You are doing the best you can with this new reality. Keep writing and know there is healing from Jesus with every tear, since He’s there with you in every second. Have Him hold you. You are making it! ♥️
Audrey, I appreciate your guidance, your words of wisdom. You get it. You know what grief is like. I feel like I’ve been treading water for months, and I’m finally beginning to use some directional strokes to get on a course toward a goal. I’m hoping God will give me an anchor in a new spot that is good for me and “Ed and Cherie.” I’m not there yet, but I’m on the path. Thank you.