- William Shakespeare, Macbeth
Friday, March 22, 2013
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Yea, though I walk through the valley....
Yesterday I tried to pretend. How did THAT work for me? Not so well.
I started by watching movies. The first one I watched was "Blue Valentine". Interesting. Depressing. Two souls who didn't belong together tangled in a marriage that inevitably had to end.
I went on to Sleepless in Seattle. While the movie was light and fun, there was great drama inside my house making it a bit hard to deny certain difficult aspects of my life. My husband tried to protect my grief bubble... but it had already popped.
By the time that movie was done I kind of gave up on my little "personal movie retreat" and schlepped my body out of bed, into the shower and over to check in on my mom. I do that daily. It makes me feel better even though she insists that she's fine and I don't need to check up on her. My older daughter is staying with her this week so I get a three generation charge on those visits. There was no pretending on the four mile drive to her house... the tears and grief came as soon as my mind was no longer occupied.
After a little while of visiting, I came home to meet my walking buddy. Since I hadn't told her the horrible tale of my traumatic turn of events, for three miles I again found myself recounting the vivid last moments of my father's life. This time with more anger in my voice. I am SICK of this story. I cried again. She huffed and puffed during the walk... I must have been walking fast. I felt nothing... numb.
I ate my vegan lasagna and decided to invite daughter number one to my movie marathon. As I waited for her in the car outside of my mom's house, I looked up the path. In the dark with the glistening snow, another memory was triggered.
My sister was having a 50th birthday party for her husband. We had a nice dinner at her house outside of Boston. It was a snowy day. We dropped daughter number one off that day at Wellesley and then daughter number two went up to Gordon college for an overnight visit. Mom and Dad waited for us to return from the North Shore at my sister's. We swooped them up and brought them back to the Blackstone Valley.
I was glad that we could drive because Dad wasn't allowed to drive yet since his fainting episode. To spare Dad's dignity, we were getting in the habit of picking them up for our trips to Boston. We made it seem like the practical choice - why should we take two cars? Why waste the gas?
When we pulled the car into their driveway, they quickly hopped out and made their way up the path - hand in hand. I looked at them and thought.... that is SO cute. I know that both mom and dad were holding hands to "protect" the other one from falling. I remembered how my grandparents used to hold hands all the time. I wanted a picture of this moment. I didn't get one.
Last night, I saw that picture embedded in my mind as I looked up the pathway. I started to cry.... So much for pretending.
Pretending doesn't work too well. We can try to deny, let it all go - but in the end the truth is the truth. It's the truth that sets you free. The only way out is THROUGH the valley.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..." The Psalmist doesn't say, "I try really hard to walk AROUND the valley of the shadow of death". No, we walk right through, whether we want to or not.
The valley is wide.
The valley is long.
The valley is dark.
The valley feels hopeless.
The valley smells of decaying flesh.
And the valley is scary.
"I will fear no evil: for you are with me. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me".
Here's the tricky truth. God is IN the valley of the shadow of death - not waiting around on the corners. This is where you meet God. This is where the comfort and strength reside. He's not there in the pretend places and the lies, he's sitting right in the middle of your grief and pain. That's where you find Him!
"You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies". Wow... death is my biggest enemy. The death of my father. The decay and death of every thing that lives on this earth. All sin and evil is a precurser to death and every part if it stings.... sucks.... bites! Poverty, physical illness, mental illness, loneliness, strife... all signs of death and decay.
It was ok to take my little "vacation" as it was.... but I'm thinking that my strength lies in living the truth. I can run away, but I can't hide... and maybe I don't want to.
Psalm 23
The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.
He makes me to lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside the still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: for thou art with me
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil.
My cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life;
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord, forever.
I started by watching movies. The first one I watched was "Blue Valentine". Interesting. Depressing. Two souls who didn't belong together tangled in a marriage that inevitably had to end.
I went on to Sleepless in Seattle. While the movie was light and fun, there was great drama inside my house making it a bit hard to deny certain difficult aspects of my life. My husband tried to protect my grief bubble... but it had already popped.
By the time that movie was done I kind of gave up on my little "personal movie retreat" and schlepped my body out of bed, into the shower and over to check in on my mom. I do that daily. It makes me feel better even though she insists that she's fine and I don't need to check up on her. My older daughter is staying with her this week so I get a three generation charge on those visits. There was no pretending on the four mile drive to her house... the tears and grief came as soon as my mind was no longer occupied.
After a little while of visiting, I came home to meet my walking buddy. Since I hadn't told her the horrible tale of my traumatic turn of events, for three miles I again found myself recounting the vivid last moments of my father's life. This time with more anger in my voice. I am SICK of this story. I cried again. She huffed and puffed during the walk... I must have been walking fast. I felt nothing... numb.
I ate my vegan lasagna and decided to invite daughter number one to my movie marathon. As I waited for her in the car outside of my mom's house, I looked up the path. In the dark with the glistening snow, another memory was triggered.
My sister was having a 50th birthday party for her husband. We had a nice dinner at her house outside of Boston. It was a snowy day. We dropped daughter number one off that day at Wellesley and then daughter number two went up to Gordon college for an overnight visit. Mom and Dad waited for us to return from the North Shore at my sister's. We swooped them up and brought them back to the Blackstone Valley.
I was glad that we could drive because Dad wasn't allowed to drive yet since his fainting episode. To spare Dad's dignity, we were getting in the habit of picking them up for our trips to Boston. We made it seem like the practical choice - why should we take two cars? Why waste the gas?
When we pulled the car into their driveway, they quickly hopped out and made their way up the path - hand in hand. I looked at them and thought.... that is SO cute. I know that both mom and dad were holding hands to "protect" the other one from falling. I remembered how my grandparents used to hold hands all the time. I wanted a picture of this moment. I didn't get one.
Last night, I saw that picture embedded in my mind as I looked up the pathway. I started to cry.... So much for pretending.
Pretending doesn't work too well. We can try to deny, let it all go - but in the end the truth is the truth. It's the truth that sets you free. The only way out is THROUGH the valley.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..." The Psalmist doesn't say, "I try really hard to walk AROUND the valley of the shadow of death". No, we walk right through, whether we want to or not.
The valley is wide.
The valley is long.
The valley is dark.
The valley feels hopeless.
The valley smells of decaying flesh.
And the valley is scary.
"I will fear no evil: for you are with me. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me".
Here's the tricky truth. God is IN the valley of the shadow of death - not waiting around on the corners. This is where you meet God. This is where the comfort and strength reside. He's not there in the pretend places and the lies, he's sitting right in the middle of your grief and pain. That's where you find Him!
"You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies". Wow... death is my biggest enemy. The death of my father. The decay and death of every thing that lives on this earth. All sin and evil is a precurser to death and every part if it stings.... sucks.... bites! Poverty, physical illness, mental illness, loneliness, strife... all signs of death and decay.
It was ok to take my little "vacation" as it was.... but I'm thinking that my strength lies in living the truth. I can run away, but I can't hide... and maybe I don't want to.
Psalm 23
The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.
He makes me to lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside the still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: for thou art with me
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil.
My cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life;
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord, forever.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Pretending a Reprieve...
Today I'm tired. I am sick of grieving. I'm so done with bad dreams. I don't want this to be my reality and I want to move on back to the world of petty issues as large. I want life to go back to normal. I want to pretend that none of this is real.
Speaking of pretending. Do you know that I found great comfort in my dad's body at the calling hours? We all stood in line past his coffin and I felt like our whole family was together again. It was as if he was taking a nap in the corner. I wanted to take him home and prop him in a chair. Even if he didn't talk, that would be alright because he would still be there with me. Crazy...
Sometimes you just need to take a break. The reality isn't going to go away. The loss is still staring you in the face, but sometimes you just need to focus on something else. Maybe a movie.... I love movies, especially romantic comedies.
I've been thinking about the movies, "Sleepless in Seattle" and "PS I Love You" lately. The words of Sam Baldwin played by Tom Hanks ring in my ears ...
"Well, I'm gonna get out of bed every morning...breathe in and out all day long. Then, after a while I won't have to remind myself to get out of bed every morning and breath in and out... and, then after a while, I won't have to think about how I had it great and perfect for a while."
It's sad to watch Sam the widower with his precocious son grieve, but in the end, he finds a second great love. Aren't movies wonderful!
Here's the trailer for PS I LOVE YOU. I own it because it might be one of my all time favorite movies. It's not one I pull out too often though because I can't stand the emotions that flood me. You need plenty of tissues for this one. They've achieved a good balance of raw, real and funny. Half the time you laugh AND cry at the same time in this movie.... Just like real life... real grief. And again, our grieving heroine eventually moves through, changed forever but again able to smile, love, live. Wish I could condense this process into a two hour movie and move on to the "happy" stage again.
Speaking of pretending. Do you know that I found great comfort in my dad's body at the calling hours? We all stood in line past his coffin and I felt like our whole family was together again. It was as if he was taking a nap in the corner. I wanted to take him home and prop him in a chair. Even if he didn't talk, that would be alright because he would still be there with me. Crazy...
Sometimes you just need to take a break. The reality isn't going to go away. The loss is still staring you in the face, but sometimes you just need to focus on something else. Maybe a movie.... I love movies, especially romantic comedies.
I've been thinking about the movies, "Sleepless in Seattle" and "PS I Love You" lately. The words of Sam Baldwin played by Tom Hanks ring in my ears ...
"Well, I'm gonna get out of bed every morning...breathe in and out all day long. Then, after a while I won't have to remind myself to get out of bed every morning and breath in and out... and, then after a while, I won't have to think about how I had it great and perfect for a while."
It's sad to watch Sam the widower with his precocious son grieve, but in the end, he finds a second great love. Aren't movies wonderful!
Here's the trailer for PS I LOVE YOU. I own it because it might be one of my all time favorite movies. It's not one I pull out too often though because I can't stand the emotions that flood me. You need plenty of tissues for this one. They've achieved a good balance of raw, real and funny. Half the time you laugh AND cry at the same time in this movie.... Just like real life... real grief. And again, our grieving heroine eventually moves through, changed forever but again able to smile, love, live. Wish I could condense this process into a two hour movie and move on to the "happy" stage again.
The truth is that I'm kind of drained today... don't want to be profound... nor spiritual. Just want to be quiet. Just want to pretend. Just want life to go back to a place of normalcy.
Emotions like grief are too much to sustain. Sometimes one has to just take a break from the realities of life. I've got some other things going on today that might impact my whole financial future, but I'm too tired even to think about it. It's all in God's hands and I'm not going to worry about it. I don't have the energy.
Think I'll stay in bed in my jammies, make a fruit smoothie and watch a few movies.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Yesterday it hit me
This blog has been on quite the journey. When I started it my dad insisted that I was doing it for myself - that I would learn a lot by writing it. He saw it as a journal where his highly extraverted daughter could process her life, come to her conclusions and grow.
Yes, I'm sure there is some of that for in writing my external self processes. I know I can do it in a journal, but I'm wired to help people... so for me, this blog is my ministry outlet....
When I started this blog, I wanted to share a piece of my heart and soul with you. I wanted to tell you that it's okay to be real - to have feelings and struggles. Sometimes we are strong and at other times we may feel defeated and weak and it's all okay.
I wanted to encourage you to grow, spread your wings and fly.
I wanted to share with you my experiences so that you could either relate and not feel alone or perhaps avoid mistakes that I have already made. Maybe you could feel proud that you don't struggle so immensely with the things that I struggle with.... wink.
I wanted to tell you that we are all on a journey - and that it takes different paths for all of us. How we go through it is as unique as the journey itself, but that you never go it alone. You always have a loving God who guides you along the way.
I was sharing my stupid little struggles that seemed large in my head. I asked questions like: "How do I become the artist I was born to be?" or "How do we combat the voices that hold us back?"
I shared art to expand some of your understanding of the arts so that you could grow in your creative edge - fully believing that in the expression of creativity we find ourselves and the great Creator. I still believe that.
Then my year took a cruel and unexpected twist as life often does. Was I immune to the real struggles? Living with a chronic illness for 23 years, a child on the spectrum, financial struggles and other things kind of stink.... but they pale in comparison to losing someone you love.
Yesterday it hit me.... My father is not coming back. He is GONE.
It hit me because the trauma of my last few weeks has moved a bit to the background.
It all hit me square in the eyes.
No more will I see his silly grin or hear his darling puns.
No more will I kiss his soft little face or put my hand on his fine white hair.
I won't be able to have nice little visits with him in his study.
He's gone....
I will no longer be able to tease him or laugh with him, nor will I hear him tease me - something he LOVED to do because apparently, I'm an easy mark. I lay myself wide open - willingly, for I'll do pretty much anything for a laugh or to lighten the mood in a room. I'm not afraid to laugh at myself.
He's no longer going to come barreling down the stairs to see me or stand in the foyer to embrace me in a big awkward bear hug from his 6 foot 4 framed body.
He won't be taking any more of those pictures from his treasured travels and loading them on google for me to see. Wish he could take some images of heaven and put them on the internet.
How about a little note with it.... "Hi Ruth .... having a great time... the colors are beautiful and the food even better. I see what you mean about worship now.... Wow. You would LOVE this! I get to preach day and night with all kinds of impressive people... but I won't name drop - it wouldn't be fitting. Here's a little picture of me with Grandpa. Jesus sends his love! Fight the good fight and keep the faith.... Love Dad".
Why does death have to be so final?
I won't see my dad towering over the crowds at church or sit next to him at all the holiday dinners while I watch him survey the feast with pleasure.
I'm so glad that we didn't make him miss the last inning of the Super Bowl this year... Glad we stayed even though I was tired and wanted to go home. He wanted to stay and I wanted to please him - because I always tried to please him. It was as if I pleased God by pleasing my father - because they were THAT close.
I went out with my mom and my oldest daughter today. We dined and went to the Apple store. I so wished we could share the experience with dad. I would tell him what we ate...how good my tofu was. Mom would show him her new computer and how she is now a cool Mac user and how they gave her the student discount because my daughter was there. He would love the food. He would support Mom in her new purchase. He would be a very important part of our simple day.
I would tell him how my car battery died on my civic so I had to take the truck and then he would stand outside and shake his head when the truck battery died in his driveway - wondering to himself about this crazy daughter that he has that always gets into such interesting situations. Then he would question why the Prius lights went on and that car almost didn't start too. Certainly the common denominator was me. Am I a battery drainer?
But, I couldn't tell him... because he's gone and he's never coming back.
The day felt lonely... incomplete. and it was - because someone very important is missing from our lives.... and yet still holds a very important place in our hearts.
My sweet mom - she is so strong. She's determined to be independent (because she IS) and stay busy and fruitful... but oh, the hole that has been thrust upon her so suddenly. So unexpectedly. To lose her best friend of 52 plus years. Her soulmate. Her love. Her support. Her comfort. Ugh.
To me, the days and months to follow seem bleak. He was our comic relief. He was just that cute with his words and his actions. His childlike presence. His helplessness and yet his towering wisdom and strength. His sheepish grin and his incredible love and respect for the woman my mother was. His excitement when telling me about how God was moving. He was so terribly interesting and so pathetically cute.
Two years ago I went to the community Good Friday service. I knew he would be there... where else would he be?
There he sat - alone with a big smile on his face. I sat behind him so as not to disturb him. When he saw me he moved back to sit by me.
Oh we had such fun.... during the 15 minutes of silence between all the final words of Christ. He counted the organ pipes - I prayed fervently for guidance. I stared at the stain glass window of the angel guiding a little girl over the bridge... He counted the pipes some more.
When we got to sing.... his voice would boom out thru the scanty, elderly crowd. And then it happened .... a blooper. He got two verses mixed up and out came "Where you there when they nailed him in the side". We glanced at each other and fell to pieces, laughing. I was reminded of all the times both he and I as children (two separate generations) were scolded for laughing in church. He dared not look at me as my body shook violently for he knew he would lose all composure. After all, what would it look like if Pastor Stan was laughing at the Good Friday service? Watching him try to hold it together made it all the more funny for me. The apple didn't fall far from the tree with my dad and I.
Fortunately, the service ended with the song and we were able to go outside and continue our laughter in a more suitable environment.
We visited and shared. I showed him a house I was considering purchasing.
Oh how I LOVED my dad!!!
But he's gone.
Ok, so where's the comfort? Every good message gets you in touch with the problem and the emotions and then gives you hope. And we have hope - we do. We understand especially through this Easter season that death has been defeated!
My husband led this reading at Dad's funeral. He almost didn't get through it, but I find this truth that I memorized at such a young age, comforting.
Lord's Day One from the Heidelberg Catechism
"What is your only comfort in life and in death?"
"That I am not my own, but belong body and soul,
in life and in death to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.
He has fully paid for all my sins with His precious blood,
and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil.
He also watches over me in such a way
that not a hair can fall from my head
without the will of my Father in heaven:
In fact, all things must work together for my salvation.
Because I belong to Him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit,
assures me of eternal life
and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready
from now on to live for Him."
Yes, I'm sure there is some of that for in writing my external self processes. I know I can do it in a journal, but I'm wired to help people... so for me, this blog is my ministry outlet....
When I started this blog, I wanted to share a piece of my heart and soul with you. I wanted to tell you that it's okay to be real - to have feelings and struggles. Sometimes we are strong and at other times we may feel defeated and weak and it's all okay.
I wanted to encourage you to grow, spread your wings and fly.
I wanted to share with you my experiences so that you could either relate and not feel alone or perhaps avoid mistakes that I have already made. Maybe you could feel proud that you don't struggle so immensely with the things that I struggle with.... wink.
I wanted to tell you that we are all on a journey - and that it takes different paths for all of us. How we go through it is as unique as the journey itself, but that you never go it alone. You always have a loving God who guides you along the way.
I was sharing my stupid little struggles that seemed large in my head. I asked questions like: "How do I become the artist I was born to be?" or "How do we combat the voices that hold us back?"
I shared art to expand some of your understanding of the arts so that you could grow in your creative edge - fully believing that in the expression of creativity we find ourselves and the great Creator. I still believe that.
Then my year took a cruel and unexpected twist as life often does. Was I immune to the real struggles? Living with a chronic illness for 23 years, a child on the spectrum, financial struggles and other things kind of stink.... but they pale in comparison to losing someone you love.
Yesterday it hit me.... My father is not coming back. He is GONE.
It hit me because the trauma of my last few weeks has moved a bit to the background.
It all hit me square in the eyes.
No more will I see his silly grin or hear his darling puns.
No more will I kiss his soft little face or put my hand on his fine white hair.
I won't be able to have nice little visits with him in his study.
He's gone....
I will no longer be able to tease him or laugh with him, nor will I hear him tease me - something he LOVED to do because apparently, I'm an easy mark. I lay myself wide open - willingly, for I'll do pretty much anything for a laugh or to lighten the mood in a room. I'm not afraid to laugh at myself.
He's no longer going to come barreling down the stairs to see me or stand in the foyer to embrace me in a big awkward bear hug from his 6 foot 4 framed body.
He won't be taking any more of those pictures from his treasured travels and loading them on google for me to see. Wish he could take some images of heaven and put them on the internet.
How about a little note with it.... "Hi Ruth .... having a great time... the colors are beautiful and the food even better. I see what you mean about worship now.... Wow. You would LOVE this! I get to preach day and night with all kinds of impressive people... but I won't name drop - it wouldn't be fitting. Here's a little picture of me with Grandpa. Jesus sends his love! Fight the good fight and keep the faith.... Love Dad".
Why does death have to be so final?
I won't see my dad towering over the crowds at church or sit next to him at all the holiday dinners while I watch him survey the feast with pleasure.
I'm so glad that we didn't make him miss the last inning of the Super Bowl this year... Glad we stayed even though I was tired and wanted to go home. He wanted to stay and I wanted to please him - because I always tried to please him. It was as if I pleased God by pleasing my father - because they were THAT close.
I went out with my mom and my oldest daughter today. We dined and went to the Apple store. I so wished we could share the experience with dad. I would tell him what we ate...how good my tofu was. Mom would show him her new computer and how she is now a cool Mac user and how they gave her the student discount because my daughter was there. He would love the food. He would support Mom in her new purchase. He would be a very important part of our simple day.
I would tell him how my car battery died on my civic so I had to take the truck and then he would stand outside and shake his head when the truck battery died in his driveway - wondering to himself about this crazy daughter that he has that always gets into such interesting situations. Then he would question why the Prius lights went on and that car almost didn't start too. Certainly the common denominator was me. Am I a battery drainer?
But, I couldn't tell him... because he's gone and he's never coming back.
The day felt lonely... incomplete. and it was - because someone very important is missing from our lives.... and yet still holds a very important place in our hearts.
My sweet mom - she is so strong. She's determined to be independent (because she IS) and stay busy and fruitful... but oh, the hole that has been thrust upon her so suddenly. So unexpectedly. To lose her best friend of 52 plus years. Her soulmate. Her love. Her support. Her comfort. Ugh.
To me, the days and months to follow seem bleak. He was our comic relief. He was just that cute with his words and his actions. His childlike presence. His helplessness and yet his towering wisdom and strength. His sheepish grin and his incredible love and respect for the woman my mother was. His excitement when telling me about how God was moving. He was so terribly interesting and so pathetically cute.
Two years ago I went to the community Good Friday service. I knew he would be there... where else would he be?
There he sat - alone with a big smile on his face. I sat behind him so as not to disturb him. When he saw me he moved back to sit by me.
Oh we had such fun.... during the 15 minutes of silence between all the final words of Christ. He counted the organ pipes - I prayed fervently for guidance. I stared at the stain glass window of the angel guiding a little girl over the bridge... He counted the pipes some more.
When we got to sing.... his voice would boom out thru the scanty, elderly crowd. And then it happened .... a blooper. He got two verses mixed up and out came "Where you there when they nailed him in the side". We glanced at each other and fell to pieces, laughing. I was reminded of all the times both he and I as children (two separate generations) were scolded for laughing in church. He dared not look at me as my body shook violently for he knew he would lose all composure. After all, what would it look like if Pastor Stan was laughing at the Good Friday service? Watching him try to hold it together made it all the more funny for me. The apple didn't fall far from the tree with my dad and I.
Fortunately, the service ended with the song and we were able to go outside and continue our laughter in a more suitable environment.
We visited and shared. I showed him a house I was considering purchasing.
Oh how I LOVED my dad!!!
But he's gone.
Ok, so where's the comfort? Every good message gets you in touch with the problem and the emotions and then gives you hope. And we have hope - we do. We understand especially through this Easter season that death has been defeated!
My husband led this reading at Dad's funeral. He almost didn't get through it, but I find this truth that I memorized at such a young age, comforting.
Lord's Day One from the Heidelberg Catechism
"What is your only comfort in life and in death?"
"That I am not my own, but belong body and soul,
in life and in death to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.
He has fully paid for all my sins with His precious blood,
and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil.
He also watches over me in such a way
that not a hair can fall from my head
without the will of my Father in heaven:
In fact, all things must work together for my salvation.
Because I belong to Him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit,
assures me of eternal life
and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready
from now on to live for Him."
Monday, March 18, 2013
Grief Work
Burned into my memory lies a moment in time that will not quickly be forgotten for it has been rehearsed over and over as if I could have a "do over"....
It is 6:00 AM. I awakened at least an hour ago to use the bathroom. I was mercifully nudged out of a bad dream, in a series of bad dreams... but from the worst dream, I have yet to awaken.
My father is gone. Stolen suddenly from me in the most unsuspecting manner. A life worthy of so much, gone in literally the blink of an eye.
Yes, he was 77 years old, not young by any means, and yet he did not age as so many do. With the life expectancy growing longer, he was snuffed out with words, and life and sermons still in his heart. He was taken away with love for his wife, children and grandchildren. He was snatched away from those who were counting on him to walk him through their issues and faded right out of the lives of young pastors who leaned on his wisdom and experience. His Bible studies were silenced.
His smile vanished from this earth in one dark moment.
Was his death merciful?.... For him.. yes. Maybe even for us as we do not know what future pains we all have been spared. He died as everyone wants to go. In a happy moment, quickly and painlessly, although certainly not with dignity... for death has no dignity.
"Oh death... where is your sting?" It strikes in the face of the unsuspecting. Boldly, brutally....
We lay out our plans.... but all do not come to fruition, for in the end, we have so little control over our lives.
Two weeks ago, as I was working on my to do list, one phone call changed my world forever. "Dad passed out again".... "He's not conscious".... "They're shocking him". Words I can't erase from my mind.... and yet neither can I accept them.
That list... that seemed so urgent at the time... lays on the floor of my bedroom... gathering dust... haunting me. Just a few days earlier a blog entry about being so busy.... multi-tasking with such passion.... not being able to stop and rest. One more week of a big push.... But it was more like a push into reality. A sudden halt from seeming productivity to grief.
Grief is a terrible thing that life cannot prepare one for. It's not as it is in the movies.... a break down, a few days in bed crying. No, it's much more severe.
In the past my grief has been mercifully restricted to grandparents, pets and friends. All have hurt. For all I've shed tears but soon I was able to return to a new norm. I was able to rise above my pain, put my memories in a box and move on.
The loss of my father has cut to the very core of my being for my father was always there for me. I do not know of life without him. His smile... his firm grip.... his deep love. He was my daddy and we know how little girls LOVE their dads. He was my constant support in the face of what I perceived as life's many difficulties and yet now - in the greatest trial of my life, he is not there for me. Such irony.
A great man. A life well lived. Every opportunity seized to make this world a better place. Every moment counted... every breath mattered.
Is my pain so great because he was so special to me? Perhaps and yet not, for surely, those who live with deep holes still feel pain at the death of a parent who should have been but couldn't be there for them.
Here is the truth about grieving....
It is not short... You cannot cry it all out - for the tears are insufficient to wash the pain from your heart.
Groaning and sobs come from deep in your gut for your very soul cries out for relief.
Tears flow freely in the deep silences and in laughter given just so you can stand to breathe. I cry in restaurants, stores, church, airports, planes.... I cry with friends, family and strangers who are kind enough to listen to my sad tale. Initially I feel better... and then, I don't.
Two weeks.... I cry in the sunrise and the sunset. I cry during dinner.... that is... if I could sit down and actually eat a full meal. I cry in the shower... when dressing....
I cannot read. Nothing commands my attention but the grief that washes over me in waves. Distractions are hard to come by.
I hold on tight to people that matter. I kiss more. I squeeze harder. I am more vulnerable.
I dread Mondays... for that was THE DAY... the day my sweet father was released.
Life has lost it's meaning. I struggle to listen to idle chatter. My tolerance for "drama" is at an all time low. "Petty" issues are just that... petty and my energy cannot be directed toward them. The superficial... the mundane... money .... social media ... blogs .... Facebook .... movies .... all full of nothingness. Who cares.....?
My great laid business plans.... flatlined along with the heartbeat of my father.
I cannot sleep... I cannot eat.... I cannot look at pictures of my father without feeling sick.
My stomach does not feel right. I have pain in my left arm. My heart hurts.
I don't walk with a beat in my step.... I drag my body through the room as if I am supporting the weight of the world.
I care not what others think of me. I don't care if they like me or don't like me. I don't care if they like my art or don't like it. I don't care if I win or lose. Come or go. Embraced or rejected... it means nothing to me.
I look at people as if to say... "talk to me about something that REALLY counts". Say something that will make a difference in my life or your life... or the person down the street.
I don't want to write in my blog. Who really cares what I have to say? What difference does it make?
But mostly... I just cry....
I know that this is temporary. I know that "in time".... I also know that time is not a few days or a few weeks for so severe a loss. It's years... Years of missing... years of trying to comprehend... accept.
The truth is that we cannot accept the reality of losing one so close as a father, mother, brother, sister or even worse... son or daughter or spouse. It's not the way that it should be and we all know it!
"Oh death, where is thy sting? Oh grave where is thy victory?"
And here is where I can lay out hope.... Not because I feel it... NO! But because without hope - what do we have? My father's life had meaning and I also must find it in his death.
He taught me how to live and continue to live, I must.
My father's life mattered.
He gave of himself faithfully and consistently.
He served God every moment of his life.
No task was too large or too small for him.
No person was more important than another. He did not rank people by status. He loved them all.
He persevered. He took his city for Christ. Day after day, he woke up and went about the tasks in life that many of us would tire of... but he plodded along... day after day... year after year. His delight was in God and bringing the good news to all people.
I grow tired and weary.... and I'm sure he had his moments. But he found his strength in the Lord. Prayer and the word of God were his food. The Holy Spirit his constant companion, writing his sermons, counseling the masses, fathering the children.
My father taught me that when one feels overwhelmed with pain, they should seek to serve and in the service, the pain will disappear. Oh how I wish I could do it. How I would love to reach out and touch someone else in their pain so that I could strike a blow to the enemy that isolates and destroys.
So today... on a Monday, three weeks from the most memorable of Mondays when my father was promoted to glory, and I was left with sadness.... I must carry on.
I will rise... I will love my neighbors. I will smile and bring joy to people's hearts, even though right now, I feel so little of my own. I will attend to the needs of my family. I will pay my bills. I will hug my dogs. I will exercise, eat right and go through the motions. I will unpack my suitcases and I will breathe...
and continue to cry.... and continue to remember... and continue to trust....
I am one of many grievers. We cannot journey through life and be untouched. Our bodies are frail. We are all guaranteed death. Death can come upon us when it is least expected. Even anticipated death cuts as a knife.
A few years ago, I left my large home in suburban North Carolina to return to this little blue collar New England town to be close to my parents "in their final years". My folks were still in "good health" but I moved here to be near them for when they needed me. I would care for them because I loved them. It was professional suicide but I didn't care, because family matters more.
I mentally calculated how long I would probably have with them. I figured if my father lived to be around the age of his parents... mid 80's to 90's... multiplied by the number of days that I could stop in and visit that would mean many more years of meaningful contact. I bet on something that wasn't guaranteed. My calculations were off.
I should have known better. I had dreams about my dad being taken from me before I was ready. I attributed it to fear and discounted it. I should have known... but I didn't... how could I?
Life is precious!
Leave no words left unsaid. Love freely and openly. Hug and kiss. Live each moment as if it is your last. Look into that sweet face that is looking back at you and tell them what they mean to you. Make your life count for something.
The last time I saw my dad, just 18 hours before his death... I hugged and kissed him goodbye as always. He was sitting there in his chair, smiling at me. "Bye Dad... see you tomorrow!" "Ok, honey... bye".
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