I am surrounded by blue, green, deafening birdsong, sunshine, lilacs and sweetness.
And my heart is aching because this was the time of year that my husband really came to life, loving the yard, seeing the new growth, inhaling freshness.
Everywhere I look I can picture him hard at work.
And my loss is keen.
I feel like the beauty and the sorrow just don’t go together.
It is a conundrum.
I have to figure this out, but the heaviness in my heart is something I seek to distract myself from. It’s just too heavy. This is what grief looks like for me almost a year after my loss.
I am still remembering the moment I learned my husband had died, still wondering if it is really true. Why can’t our minds accept our shock?
I go on with the mundane things about me, subbing, mowing, shopping, driving, swimming at the Y, answering texts, paying the bills. I love the mundane. I’m so unexciting.
I’m healing.
I am thankful for each promise you have made me of praying. I need prayer. I need understanding.
My life journey has been raw lately, and because I am a writer/blogger I share it. It’s who I am right now, who I have become. I am simply the beggar telling other beggars where to find hope.
I like that metaphor.
Today I have the impetus to crawl out of my hole and take a look around. I’ve been in fetal position for a few weeks, and I’m giving myself some slack to see the darker side of my grief and let my guard down. My head hurts from crying, I snap irritably at little things. I’m not pleasant to be around.
Fetal position is becoming to me these days. You’d rather not encounter me.
God understands that I am dust. He knows my need and my weakness. He is always there. I’m seeing His merciful side lately. God, the righteous judge, is gentle and lowly of heart. I need Him to see me with that heart right now.
All I can do is pray for others right now.
Focus is a real thing, and I have defined my focus through these difficult months. I seek gentleness and lowliness, I seek to reflect the heart of Jesus.
Off to subbing for the rest of the day.
My dear cousin, precious friend, is arriving tonight to lift my spirits and connect for a week. She has sacrificed a week in her Arizona home to be with me. She always does me good. I’m so grateful for her.
Expect me to come back to life. I need to.