Almost Christmas

It's almost Christmas. 
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. 
I think that it will be the final stepping stone 
for me to get through. But, I don't think that it 
will be as hard as I had originally thought. I've been 
building up stamina over this past year. I think that
Christmas will be easier to get through then the one year
anniversary of my mom's passing had been. I'm actually 
looking forward to the Christmas holiday. 


I still feel like their is a slight cloud hanging over my head.
That dampens my spirit a little bit. But, like this past year, 
God has come through for me. Gifts in the mail just keep 
on coming. No, gifts aren't everything. Actually, that isn't 
even most of it. It's the fact that anyone would even think to 
send me anything whatsoever. THAT is what amazes me. 
My cousins and friends have once again came through for me.
God came through for me. It still amazes me that so many
people love me. That they would even think to send me a 
gift. 


It has been a little difficult. My step-dad has been on my mind
more often these days. I've been having dreams about him 
more often lately. In the first dream, it was a warm spring or 
summer day. My step-dad, my mother, and I were standing outside
in their driveway next to their camper talking. But, I could never see
my mom in the dream. Only my step-dad. I could hear my mom, but
I never saw her. We were all laughing. My step-dad was being nice to 
me. He was acting like my mother. Overjoyed to see us. His laughter 
flowed freely; he was genuinely happy to have us over to his house. 
His defenses were down, he smiled with ease. 


My husband says that the dream might mean that I would like my
step-dad in my life. But, that I'd like him to be nice, caring, 
genuinely happy to see us. All things that describe my mom. 


The other dream that I had took place in two locations. At the beginning
of the dream, my husband, children, and I were at my in-law's house.
We were there for a get together or a holiday. I told my husband that 
we needed to leave right away to go back to my step-dad's house to 
get the rest of our stuff from there (clothes, duffel bags, etc.) So, we
went to my step-dad's house, and began throwing our stuff up the
basement stairs in order to get it ready to pack up into the car. 
I was in a hurry for some reason. Trying to get packed up and be 
gone before my step-dad got home. Well, he got home before we 
were done. And, he was mad! He started getting mad at me, then
he started talking disrespectfully to me. So, I told him that I wouldn't
let him talk to me that way anymore. I also told him that if he 
didn't stop, then I was walking out the door, and that he'd never 
see me again. To my astonishment, he said, "Fine!". 
I walked out. And, that was it.


Regarding the second dream; my husband told me that maybe it was 
symbolic of the finality of it all. I basically told myself that I'd give 
my step-dad until the end of this year to contact me in person via
phone or in person. He hasn't so far. So, the dream may have been 
my way of coming to terms with the fact that it's probably over with him.
He hasn't acknowledged any of my kids for their birthdays. He never 
acknowledged me by phone since April of this year. I've sent him a 
father's day card, a birthday card, and a Christmas card and gift. 
He wasn't kind enough to reciprocate. And, quite frankly, I don't even
know that I care anymore. I did try. I think I did my best. And, from 
what I can tell, he has made his decision.

I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again. I'm looking forward to 
a new year. I'm so excited! I just hope that it is as good as I hope. 
I want to do things better and different. I want to help someone. 
I just want next year to be overflowing with so many more blessings. 
I just have to trust that God will make it a great year. 


And, while I'm thinking about it....I really only want three things
for Christmas..........1. Snow for Christmas 2. A cat or dog to adopt us.
3. For the upcoming year to be MUCH better. That's it. There is still 
no snow, but there is 24 hours left before Christmas morning. So, it 
could still happen! 


To anyone reading this, I hope you have a wonderful Christmas, 
and a new year that overflows with blessings from above!
 

Another milestone

It was another milestone yesterday. 
Kind of a big one too. 
It was Dec. 11, 2011.
The one year anniversary of my mom's passing.

I wasn't sure how the day would go. 
But, I actually felt quite relieved. 
I made it. A whole year without my mom.
I didn't waste away from all the grief. I didn't die from
all the pain. I have gotten up off my knees.
I survived her loss.
For this reason, I felt a huge sigh of relief. 

I didn't know what I would do for Christmas this year.
What kind of card to send out? Should I write the annual
Christmas letter? Would I even have anything worth writing?
Well, it turned out that I did.

I used Christmas as a way to remember my mom.
I put a picture of her and the kids on the front of the
homemade Christmas card this year. I wrote a letter about 
how I saw God so much this past year. And, I included the poems
called, Footprints In the Sand, Christmas In Heaven, then I 
included my own, Flip Flops in Heaven.
I just hope that my family doesn't find it depressing. 
I did my best; I thought it turned out quite nicely. 
Guess I'll have to wait and see. 

 Just two more events to get through. 
Christmas and New Year's. 
I know that I can do it. I've built up momentum. 
And God is with me. He has been all this time. 
I know that He never left me. 


I wish that I could say that my step-dad is doing just as well.
But, from what I've heard, he is having a hard time. 
He still isn't really talking to me. 
His loss. 


So, I'm ready! I'm ready for Christmas. I'm ready for a New Year.
A new year, a fresh start; hopefully a year holding endless 
blessings to be discovered. 
Much happiness and love; many friends and family.
Yes, I'm excited!
2012...... Here I come! 


Thank-you Lord! Thank-you for walking with me in the valley.
Thank-you for carrying me when I was on my knees. 
Thank-you for never leaving my side. Especially in my darkest
hours. And, thank-you for showing me the light again. I love you!

Waiting for Christmas

I'm waiting for Christmas.
It's not even Thanksgiving yet, and the world
is already getting ready for the celebration of the
birth of the Christ child. 

The ornaments are being stocked up, stockings hung to 
be ready to buy, toys overflow every store shelf. 

There are bright colors, shining lights, gay music. 
And, it's not even Thanksgiving yet!

I'm not sure exactly why I'm waiting for Christmas.
I think that I'm afraid that it's going to knock me onto 
my knees. I guess I think that if I'm on my guard, then I 
can outwit it, and that it won't catch me unprepared. But, 
grief has a way of showing up unexpectedly irregardless 
of how prepared I try to be. 

I still feel numb. Going through the holiday motions. 
Having our family portrait taken, just like we do every year.
Getting ornaments ready for the tree. 
Asking the children what they would like from Santa. 

It's frustrating. I want to be happy so badly. But, some days
I can't feel anything. I honestly don't know what to make of 
Christmas this year. I don't know how I feel. Maybe I'm afaid
to feel anything.

I don't think that Christmas will feel "normal" this year.
I don't think it will feel "normal" for many years to come.

I have begun a new tradition, I think. We're going to pick
a new theme each year for our Christmas tree. And, the 
children will make the ornaments by hand to and decorate 
the tree. 


But, then again, who am I kidding? Starting a hundred new
traditions won't stop my pain. It won't make me forget that
my mom is no longer here with us. It won't stop that 
aching feeling in my stomach that is from grief stirring
itself up again. 


Here I sit, waiting for Christmas. I wait for what is supposed
to be one of the happiest days of the year. Yet, I feel no 
excitement, no joy, nothing. 


Well, maybe not nothing. I do have a flicker of light. 
A small flame of hope that lives on inside of myself. 
Maybe this flicker will be nurtured into a large, bright, 
fire. A fire that would allow my joy, love, compassion, 
happiness, and love to overflow. Now, this would be a
wonderful Christmas gift. In the meantime, I'll be 
waiting. For Christmas.

Analogies and Surprises

So, I've been thinking. About grief.
Or, more accurately, what it's like going through grief. And, coming out of it.
Two ideas stand out most strongly in my mind.

The first idea is a cliche of sorts. 
It is a tunnel. My mother's death put me at the opening of the tunnel. 
Going through it was grief. And, coming out was healing and light.


I distinctly remember, just before leaving to go see my mom's resting place, 
having a picture in my mind. I was standing at the end of the tunnel. I wasn't quite out
all the way. But, I was standing right at the threshold of stepping out into the light. 
Then, a few days after I'd seen her resting place, I remember experiencing a huge 
sigh of relief. I realized then, that I was finally out. Out of the darkness. Out of the tunnel.
I envisioned myself standing in a meadow, the warm sun shining down on me, 
with the opening of the end of the long, dark tunnel behind me. I had finally made it out!


The other picture that I had was a cocoon. I think that grief is like metamophesis.
It's like being inside a cocoon. All the while I was inside the cocoon, I was going 
through grief. I twisted, I cried, I hurt. I hated being inside of it.
But, in some way, the cocoon was like God's protection. The cocoon is wrapped around
the body of the caterpillar as it grows and changes. And, God wrapped Himself 
around me, to protect me as I grieved and healed. Other times, I think that He used 
my loved ones to protect me. They sort of made a protective support for me, so that I 
could go through a painful process that I didn't understand. And, for this, I am grateful.  
Shortly, after seeing my mother's resting place, I realized that I was finally a butterfly. 
I was free! This is not to imply that I'll never miss my mom or hurt again; 
but that the hardest part was FINALLY over. 
I went through the process, and now I'm done!

 When someone would hurt me in life, or treat me unfairly, 
my mother would always tell me, "What goes around, comes around".  
Those words echo in my mind. I suppose that's one reason why I tried 
to be kind to my step-father this past year, even though I don't think 
that he deserve it. As I mentioned in a previous post, I sent him a birthday card. 
I kept it simple. Well, it's been almost a month since his birthday came and went. 
And, you can probably imagine my surprise (and fear) when I discovered an e-mail 
waiting in my box from him. I hadn't heard a word from him in 4 months. 
But, the surprising thing was really that he used more humble words in his recent e-mail. 
He didn't use words that were sharp, or haughty. It almost sounded like grief was finally 
catching up to him. He might be just starting to go through what I had been 
suffering through this entire past year. 


I think about my journey this past year. I think about all the pain, hurt, 
suffering, and how much I leaned on family and God. 
I think it's sad, really. I've finally just stepped out of the tunnel and/or cocoon;
and he may be just beginning to enter. But, he'll have to find his own way. 
He can go it alone, or go it with God. But, only God can truly go through it
with him. Just as God went through it with me. I truly hope that he finds God, 
and that he finds his way. 

Lord, please turn his heart toward You, and show him the way. Amen.

Her final resting place

So, I finally saw my mom's final resting place.
It was on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. 
October 8th, 2011. Almost exactly 10 months 
after she passed away. A day with a clear blue
sky, the sun shining. 

Me, my cousin, my mom's best friend, and two
more of her close friends gathered at the cemetery.
I read Footprints In the Sand, then I read a piece
that I had typed here, on my blog, called 
Flip Flops in Heaven. Then, I read what I wanted to say, 
and finally, my cousin read the poem called,
When I'm an Old Woman, I Shall Wear Purple.
This was my mom's favorite poem. And, we all 
got a chuckle out of it. I'm glad too, I wanted things
to end on a lighter note. 


We put flowers on top of the wall that her ashes are placed into,
poured some beer for her, and stood in silence for a moment.....
remembering. Her life, and what she meant to us. 


Then, we all went out to lunch at the Wooden Spoon. 
Afterwards, we parted, and went our own ways. 


There is something good about finally having seen my 
mom's resting place. I can have peace knowing that she
is finally at peace. I can breathe. 


But, with peace also came more grief. 
It was like a dam had been broken, and all the 
pent-up emotions had been released. All the feelings 
that I didn't let go of before, came rushing forward later. 


I still struggle. I still hurt. Every time I think of 
another thing that I forgot at the house, I sob
and cry. I keep telling myself that it's "just stuff".
But, it's getting harder. Because some of the "stuff"
had deep meaning for me. And, I fear that I'll never
get any of that "stuff" back. Things that I had planned
on passing to my own children. Things that I had given 
to my mother. Gifts. A nativity set. A coffee cup. 
Christmas ornaments that I had made. If I ever see 
these things again, it will be a miracle only from God. 


Life goes forward. The pain is still there. But, I have
to push on. For me, for my family. I have to believe that
God will make this better somehow. And I do believe He will.
Thank-you, God. 
For carrying me through. 
For helping me. 
Thank-you.

Letting Go

Letting go. 
It can be hard to do.
I feel that I let go of so much this past year.

I let go of my mom when she passed away.
I let go of life as I knew it.
I've been letting go of grief.
I let go of her ashes because I didn't know when  or if 
her husband would ever bury them. 

I'm letting go of her husband. My step-father.
My step-father of 21 years.
I didn't want to let him go. 
I did try to make our step-father/step-daughter relationship still work.
But, he has chosen to ignore me, his son-in-law, and his grandchildren. 

This hurts deeply. 
I wondered if I was trying hard enough. 
Doing enough. 
His message, "I need my space" seemed to truly say, 
"Stay the hell away from me". 
 But, I didn't. 
I kept trying. But, without cramping his "space". 
I find it hard to believe that I was in his space to begin
with; we live 3 states away from each other.

I sent a Father's Day card. 
I think I only got a response because that happened to be 
the same time that he had my mother's ashes buried. 
And his "thank-you" wasn't even one of sincere joy.


And, more recently, I sent him a birthday card. 
I went back and forth about it. 
Would he be angry? Would he ignore me like he has been?
What if I don't send it, and he thinks I don't care?
What if I do send it, and he gets angry because he is trying
his damndest to forget about all of us.


So, I sent the birthday card. 
I sent it because I read an Amish proverb....
       "To give good for good is human, 
               to give good for evil is divine."


He may never thank me. He may never acknowledge me again.
But, I felt good. I believe that I did what was right. I know that
my mother would be proud. 


But, since he has not responded, and I still think that he never will, 
I'm letting go. Originally, I thought that I would give him a year. 
But, in 10 months, he has only bothered to contact me a small 
handful of  times; mostly of which were to ask me repeatedly to
come and fetch my mother's belongings from the house. 
(Because he was too much of a coward to do it himself.)


For months I ached the loss of my mom.
Then, I ached for the loss of my step-father. 
I ached for the fact that I can never go "home" again. 


But, if I've let go of the grief from my mother's passing.
And, I've accepted the fact that I'll never see my mother's house again, 
then I suppose, it's time to let him go too. 


Yes, it hurts. Yes, it's hard.
But, my mother didn't chose to have cancer.
He chose to kill our relationship. 
I did all that I could do.
It's time to heal.
It's time to move on.

Like a brick in the head

Grief. It can sure knock me upside the head when I least expect it.
It's like cruising along the scenic route, watching the sun set, and then, 
in a split second, you realize that you've crashed. You didn't see it coming.
It just happened. That's grief. 

I was cruising along. I was breathing a sigh of relief, for a moment anyhow.
I had wrangled free from the grip of grief. But, it does manage to catch up
with me eventually. I'm getting better then it, though. I'm not trying 
to outrun it. But, it seems to be having a harder time catching up to me, 
and even when it does, it has a hard time getting hold of me. 

But, lately, it has had me in it's grip pretty tightly. I keep trying to get free.
But, anything I try, doesn't work. I'm back to when nothing I did worked. 
Nothing I did seemed to loosen it's grip on me. 

I think it's amazing what the difference a day can make. The other day, 
I was fine. Today, I struggled with grief all day long. It just hurt, and hurt.
And, it wouldn't stop. 

A day. Just a day. The last time I ever talked to my mom on the phone 
was on Dec. 10th. A Friday. An ordinary day. With ordinary chores, 
ordinary weather, ordinary words. But, the next day would 
change my life forever. Flip my world upside down. The next day, 
my mom had passed away. In just a day. A single day. 

A day. Before she passed away, she told me that she, I, and the kids 
would bake goodies at Thanksgiving time to have ready for Christmas. 
I still struggle with this statement. I keep asking myself, 
"If she had plans in life, then why did she die?"
This has never made any sense to me. She MADE plans. 
So, why did she go?  She talked about how she had to see 
my oldest graduate, how she wanted to be around when 
my children get married, and how we could spend time 
together because she was finally retired. 
I just don't understand why she had to go.
I may never understand. 

One of the hardest things I struggle with is the fact that 
I may not get to see her for another 25 to 50 years. 
That's a long time not to see someone.  This breaks my heart as well. 

I know I'll see her again some day. One day. And, it may be an ordinary day, 
with ordinary weather. People using ordinary words. I just hope that 
when it's my turn, that I'll be blessed enough to have my husband 
and children with me by my side. As I take my last breath here on earth, 
and take my first breath in heaven.

Someone like me

Aaaah!

It is so refreshing to meet someone who is hearing impaired. 
It is incredible to meet someone who is a hearing impaired 
mom and homeschooler of six! And, we almost didn't meet. 
Circumstances put us in the same place during a single 
moment in time. We both agree, God had his fingerprints 
all over that meeting. 

It was so exciting to share common joys and frustrations 
that appear to be so rare in the general public. 
It isn't so much about being hearing impaired
in and of itself. That isn't really anything unusual. 
It's about the challenges of raising and homeschooling 
hearing children, sharing a marriage with a hearing husband, 
and not losing our sanity in the midst of it all. 
That is what makes it rare. 

I look forward to sharing time with this mom of six. 
Sipping coffee, discussing ways to overcome everyday 
challenges while trying to get along in a predominately hearing world. 

Hopefully, this friendship will grow to be close and long lasting. 
Time will only tell.  

Another Anniversary

Today is 9/11.
Today is also the 9 month anniversary of my mom's death.

Today, though a reminder of a tragedy and a loss, became a day
of renewal. Today, I cleaned. I de-cluttered. That in itself says nothing. But, it was a turning point in my grief that I could feel.

I feel like I've been laying dormant for months now. I still managed
to do my daily work, chores, etc. But, today is different. 

Today, each spot I cleaned and emptied clutter, felt like I was
clearing out grief. Emptying a cupboard of plastic ware, and 
arranging them neatly, and throwing out the old, felt good.
Keeping memories of her, but throwing off the grief that 
has gripped me for nearly a year now is becoming easier.

Symbolic perhaps. Examining my life. Keeping what 
is important, and throwing out what is not. Deciding who is 
important to me, and making an effort to show them I care. 
And, those who aren't, I'll let them go. It hurts to let people go.
But, I cannot change them, or make them want me in their life. 
So, I de-clutter my life. I don't need all the drama, mood swings,
and pain that some people bring to my life. 


So, even though today is a memory of a tragedy, for me
it is a turning point. Almost a celebration of freedom from
the grips of grief. I look forward to my real celebration on 
January 1st. When I have gotten through an entire year of 
grief and a whole year without her.    
To my mother, to God and to January 1st.  :o)

I saw God's fingerprints

It's been a year since I last saw my mom alive. 
She came to visit here, at my home, in September of last year. 
I never saw her again until it was time to prep her for her funeral.

But, I have seen God's fingerprints all over my life this past year. 

I saw Him when I needed strength to clear my mom's house out 
in a hurry because someone had me under the gun to get her stuff.
He wanted her memory erased forever.

I saw God when Valentine's Day rolled around, and one of my 
sister-in-laws sent each of my kids something small in the mail.
My mother would always do this for my kids; but not this year.

I saw Him on Mother's Day. A day that I tried to avoid because it
hurt so much. My first one without my mom. But, I couldn't avoid it.
I got a phone call from everyone I care about.

I saw His fingerprints on the vacation that my father provided
for us. A much needed vacation.

I saw God on my worst days. The days I was emotionally on my knees.
The days I cursed from anger and pain. When I lashed out the hardest.
The days I was too tired to be angry, so  I wept instead.
Those days, God whispered to me, calling me. "Come closer".

I saw God when a sunny day seemed like a waste, because
all I could see were the tears falling from my eyes. 
God would whisper that it would be alright. It was fine to not feel 
"normal" yet. That I needed time for my wounds to heal. 


I saw Him on the days I didn't even want to get out of bed or get dressed.
His fingerprints would be on a card waiting in my mailbox on a day I needed 
it most. Or a phone call from someone who called just to ask how
I was doing. 


I saw God in a colorful bouquet of flowers from my husband. I often got
those on the days that my husband felt helpless in easing my grief, but
he still wanted to do something for me.

I saw God a lot this past year, and the year isn't even out yet.
I still have my first birthday to get through without my mom.
There's Thanksgiving. And, this Christmas will really be my second
without her. But it will feel like my first. She died, last year, exactly 
two weeks before Christmas. I was in such shock, it didn't even feel like 
Christmas to me at all. I avoided all happy Christmas music at any cost.
Going into a department store to shop for clothes to wear to the funeral
was almost unbearable. The contrast between the merry tone, bright colors,
smiling faces, and laughter that filled the air, was a stark contrast to the deep
grief that I was going through. But, I pulled through. With God's help. And, 
the help of my husband.


I am looking forward to December 31st. For me, it marks the final day
of a full year without my mom. January first of last year, felt like the first day
of my life without my mom. It was the first day I had to be in my own home 
since I found out she had passed away.


There is still time for God to put his fingerprints on my life this year. 
For this reason, I continue to keep my eyes open, searching for Him.
His fingerprints. And what He holds in store for me. I can hardly wait!

Flip Flops in Heaven

I like flip flops. 
They're colorful. 
They're fun to wear.
Flip flops say, "relaxation, fun in the sun, sandy beaches, painted nails, 
and interesting places to go". 

But, they say something more to me. I often think about my mom's 
battle with leukemia. And, the poem, Footprints in the Sand comes to mind.
I picture Jesus, helping my mom along, as she struggled through each 
chemo appointment, through biopsies and port implants. 
Jesus, sitting by her side with his back leaned against the bathroom wall, 
as she spent days hovering over the bathroom toilet as sickness and poison 
spewed from her body. Jesus, kneeling by her bedside, watching over her sleeping body,
praying to His Father; asking Him to help my mom get through the hour, the day, 
the week, the next round of chemotherapy. 

I think about flip flops. 
And, I think about my mother, up in Heaven, walking along a beach, 
side by side with Jesus. Both of them wearing flip flops. 
His are worn leather. 
Hers are hot pink and purple.
They walk side by side along the beach, talking. About her life, how she lived, 
how she gave, and of course, she would have to brag about her grandchildren.

Yes, I do believe that when life got hard for her here on earth, He carried her. 
And, yes, I believe that they stroll along a beautiful beach unlike any on this earth.
And, I believe that when I go Home, after Jesus has talked to me about my life and 
how I spent it; my mom will be waiting for me, on a beach, 
with hot pink and purple flip flops. 
Heavenly flip flops.

The frustration of being HOH

I don't know why people say it. 
I don't know why hearing people say it. 
Why do they say, "You have the best of both worlds"?
I am hearing impaired, and I can honestly say, it is NOT the best of both worlds.

It's like saying to a person with only one leg, "You have the best of both worlds. 
You are not totally leg-less, and you can still walk like everyone else". 
"You can experience both worlds.... the leg-less/or leg-impaired and the leg-ies."
 How many people go up to a one legged person and tell them how "lucky" they
are to be one legged?  
I know, it's insulting.

I have heard this about being hearing impaired for my entire life. 
When, in fact, I am not a part of either world. 
The deaf do not fully accept me because I do not fit the definition of being deaf, 
nor do I know ASL because it was discouraged from being used in the schools I attended. (Lip-reading was pushed, SEE was acceptable, ASL was discouraged.) 

I am not part of the hearing world because I cannot fully hear like a hearing person.
Generally, there are numerous misunderstandings. 
Hearing people think I am being a snob because I do not hear them and they 
interpret it as being ignored. 
Or, I keep silent because I'm unsure of a conversation topic, and they 
may interpret this as not caring.
I misunderstand hearing people for more reasons then I can list. 


No, I am not part of either world. 
I am a part of a world that is altogether different. 
There are others like me, I know. 
But, I know of none nearby. 
And, I know of none at all that homeschool hearing children. 
For these reasons, I often feel isolated. 

I have often felt that my hearing loss and my personality are in 
constant conflict with each other. 
My hearing loss keeps me isolated (I can be in a room of 80 people, 
and I am still isolated). 
My personality screams, "I want to fit in! I want to socialize 
and mingle like everyone else!" I want to have social dinner parties, 
potlucks that are overflowing with conversation and laughter. 
Laughter that is preferably not about me, but shared with me. 
These are some of my deepest longings. 


But, for now, the best that I can do is to bungle through life with hearing people.
To hold my breath in a crowded social situation and hope and pray that I don't 
say the wrong thing at the wrong time. 
To try not to embarrass myself.
But, this is stressful at best. 
A total nightmare at worst.

My wish: to either have a bionic ear or for hearing people to become more
sensitive and understanding overnight. 
At this rate I don't think I'll see either in my lifetime.

So, for the rest of my lifetime, I will continue to do what I have been doing....
Thanking God for the good friends and family that I do have that take the 
time to slow down, re-explain things, re-explain things again, interpret for me,
make phone calls for me, point out what I have missed, and apologize on my
behalf to the hearing people that I accidentally insult by unknowingly 
ignoring them. 
Yes, I do thank God for these rare people in my life. 
Some come to stay, some just pass through for a brief time. 
But, I am thankful for them all.
 



 

The mess of grief

Today I sat, and thought about part of my journey. 
The part of it that involves going through the grief process. 
Grief is so many things. 
Messy. Hard work. Exhausting. Life altering. Life shattering. Painful. 
Mine also burned with anger and rage. 
And, much of the time it seemed that all of those emotions would swirl wildly together. 
I often felt as though my heart had been dropped on a concrete floor; 
the pieces shattering like thin glass into a million small irreparable pieces. 
Devastated. 


In the beginning, a thick, heavy, black steel wall had come smashing down!
It divided my life. 
Life before the funeral. 
Life after the funeral. 
The funeral itself seemed to be in suspension, like as if it were in Purgatory. 
A time that was like no other.
A time all together different.

At another point, I had a clear picture in my mind. 
I, alone, in a small boat, riding on rough, dark, cutting waves. 
Dark clouds rolling in. 
(Symbolic of what what was yet to come.) 
Ahead, sat a lighthouse. 
But, the light is out. Forever. 
But, at least, I thought, I can still see the house that held the light. 
But, someone took that away from me. 
So, I bounced, aimlessly in a vast ocean, 
identified as my life, 
without any direction, help, hope, or compass. 
Nothing. 
At least that is how it seemed to be.  
 I continued bouncing on the waves, getting sick, crying out to God to help me. 

In the beginning, when my life had been ripped apart, I came to a cross roads. 
One would require that I lean on and trust God. 
Trust Him when I didn't understand, 
trust Him to deal out the punishment of those who had hurt me during my 
walk through grief. 
The other, would allow me to trust my own understanding, 
to lash out in pain to hurt those who had hurt me, 
allow me to seek out revenge and justification where I saw it fit. 

I chose to go God's Way. 
I still got angry. 
I still get angry. 
I still think about my hurt and pain. 
But, I don't seek action.
It doesn't consume me. 
I take it to God. 
(Usually not in the best of language.) 
And, I lay it down, and let Him take it. 
I trust Him to help me. 
To heal me. 
To deal with those who hurt me when I needed help the most. 

Yes, I still hurt. 
But, I found another lighthouse. 
God's. 
And, the smaller lighthouses that shone before, 
just shine brighter today. 
Yes, I still hurt. 
I still miss her. 
But, I'm beginning to find peace.
 And, in the end, that's all I really want.