Finally reading

When Chad passed, I received so many books--and even looked for some of my own--to help me connect with someone else who knew what I was going through. I had piles . . . and still do, only now they're dusty. I would start to read them and couldn't. I wanted to make sure I wasn't going crazy, hoping that there was reassurance on the pages that everything I was experiencing was "normal." I recoiled at the idea of picking up the books. It was like part of my mind didn't want to admit that I was going through it. But, mostly I was angry at the author for assuming they knew anything about my grief. How dare they try to tell me what grief is like or worse, telling me what I should be doing about it!

Tonight, I finally picked up A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis. It's his raw journaling about his own grief after his wife passed away. So much of what he says speaks to me. He wrote something that isn't particular to grief, but applies to everything in life and I have to share and reflect. He puts a fine point on some thoughts that have been bouncing around in my head over the last year, specifically when people express how strong they think I am or how they don't know how I do it. He explains it perfectly:

"One never meets just Cancer, or War, or Unhappiness (or Happiness). One only meets each hour or moment that comes. All manner of ups and downs. Many bad spots in our best times, many good ones in our worst. One never gets the total impact of what we call 'the thing itself.' But we call it wrongly. The thing itself is simply all these ups and downs: the rest is a name or an idea."

Perfectly put. We had incredible beauty and love while Chad was slipping away. I wouldn't trade a moment of that for anything. I believe that's where life is really felt, in those very real, raw moments. And the days that followed, they were overwhelmed with shock. It cushioned the blow for longer than I expected. For months I couldn't truly feel that my husband was gone, not to the depth that made sense. And then it started leaking through, into my heart. Overwhelming pain, but in the midst of it, so much love surrounded us and we could even laugh at times. 

I still struggle, and probably will continue to for the rest of my life. Waves of grief hit at unexpected times. Numbness blankets my heart a lot of the time. I have conditioned myself into "survival mode" and, while I think we're doing a little better than that now, I still don't feel fully engaged with the world around me. More like I'm just doing the next thing that should be done. But, I'm far from where I was. 

Light has come back into our lives. We spend a lot of time laughing and playing. I don't often carry the heaviness that I once did, only every now and then. Running is so very helpful to unload that weight. 

As I'm sure you know, I'm here to connect. Allow others into my heart so that they can realize they aren't alone. If you read back in the blog, you'll see so much of what we've gone through as a family and I hope to continue to write about whatever is happening for us. Life is tough. It's tough for everybody. And it can be so isolating. This blog is a push-back against the isolation that is washing over our culture like a tsunami. Share, comment, send me a message if you have connected with anything from tonight.