Anything But Content

I feel like my heart is raw. Like a wound that keeps getting torn open, again and again. There is no time to heal. There is no balm for my soul.
It is as though I’m running on a sandy beach, feet sinking deep into the warm sand making each step a little harder than the last. I know I need to keep going, but it’s so difficult.

I want to stop the world, stop all the change in my life, to regroup, to get my bearings again. I want to mourn and wallow, and feel sorry for myself. I want to cry until there are no more tears. And some days I do. But the next day they return, flowing strong and steady.

I’m going through the motions, but feel like my world is spinning out of control on the inside. Like the merry-go-round that I used to ride as a kid. The one that terrified me and made me feel ill. The one that spun and spun and left me puking in the grass.

I’m trying to be present. To be focused on the things that are big in my kids lives. The changes and challenges they face. I’m trying to be the mom they need me to be. But it’s so very hard.

I don’t want to take care of anyone else right now. I don’t want to problem solve with them or be their shoulder to cry on. I want my Dad back. I want to remember him, to think about the stories he told, to hear his voice again. I want him to not be gone. And I’m having a hard time focusing on anything else.

I guess I’m just shocked at how hard it is. I didn’t know it would be like this.

It has only been a few weeks. But life has gone on at breakneck speed. Work keeps happening, the house needs to be cleaned, the bills need to be paid the pictures need editing. There are college orientations and teenage transitions and all kinds of life still happening.

It all just keeps going. And I try to hide the tears when they come at work. I try to focus on my health and Bible study. I try to move forward. And yet I just want to cry.

A lot.

I find myself thinking of all the people who have gone through this before me. The people who seemed to keep going like their world hadn’t fallen apart when I know it had. They kept it together. I know they had to be hurting just like me, but they made it through. They went through the motions. They put one foot in front of the other and kept going. And I had no idea how hard it must have been.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I didn’t know what you were going through. I’m sorry I didn’t remember those things that would bring back the tears. I just didn’t know.

I am thankful to those who have been where I am today. Thankful for their understanding; for their notes and cards and texts.

I’m grateful I’m not going through this alone.

But most of all I’m thankful that I know I will see him again. That I believe life isn’t over at death. I believe in heaven and the afterlife. I am thankful that despite missing him terribly, I know that I will see him again. And that helps. It doesn’t take away the pain, but it gives me hope.

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1 Comment

Filed under Faith, Family, Legacy, Thankful

One response to “Anything But Content

  1. Glenda Pfeifer

    The only thing that can replace the pain is the happy memories that will eventually float to the top once your life stops swirling Judy. So sorry for your loss, but happy for the love you’ve known from that very special person. Love to you. Glenda

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