There is something fascinating about grief. It comes in pouring over your soul at the most untimely and unexpected times and completely sucks the reverence and spirit out of you, yet it is a cleansing of our soul and spirit....God's way of allowing us to shed the pain and loss of what once was...to let in light where the darkness so very much took over, leaving you empty and contained in a place of sadness and agony.
You think you have experienced and closed the book on grief and have done "your time" with mourning what you lost, yet like some clairvoyant presence, grief has its own knowledge about what is to come and just how much time you still need to let go and become the self you were before you lost.
But are we ever that same self? Doesn't grief act as a thief taking a part of that self or does it transform it depending on how healthy we are in accepting it into our lives....I'm not sure.
What I am certain of is that today wasn't a day I expected to feel pain. I never anticipated when I awoke that the rain that sprinkled my gardens would also act as the cleansing blend of my sadness and God's hand soothing me and washing away my tears. I never welcomed the very thought that I was ever going to weep over something I had to say goodbye to 6 months ago. Grief is sneaky like that. Quiet, stealth-like and too powerful to avoid.
Today I remembered that yesterday is the 6 month anniversary of my daughter's diagnosis of RSD/CRPS. That exact recall moved me further backward to a week before that when we lost our beloved and most treasured family pet. His name was Indy. And I miss him. Today grief clearly reminded me of that and took me back to a time when I fervorantly felt the change in our path and the paradigm shift shook our core and took away so much.
The sky hadn't begun to pour, but my God, my heart did. And just like that, I was grieving. Instant madness shuffled through my morning and took me somewhere far far away and so deeply difficult to grasp and dig out of. That's the way grief binds you and holds you down until you just can't fight it; after resisting to exhaustion, you have to give up...let go...and let it consume you at its will.
It is unfathomable to take the broken pieces of the last 6 months and try to compose and construct what was, but we have them. Like a child who had so meticulously spent what felt like a lifetime putting them together to proudly share her masterpiece, crying out in I want
** Edit
11/9/17
There are none and then a zillion explanations as to why I haven't written on this blog in over three years. Life is too short to explain sometimes. I'll just say that I've returned today...after so long, to find this draft sitting in my account. I can't remember writing it or the place I was in when doing so, but it makes me both sad and joyful. Sad to read the pain I was feeling...that unsightly and terrifyingly lonely time for our family...joyful, because here we are, 4 years later, pain free, living our lives with joy and health. Looking in the mirror of our life, we don't see tragedy and heartache in our the reflection but the evolution of our selves...of our family...of our personal growth and healing.
And so in the month of CRPS awareness..."Nervember"..I leave you with a window into the soul of a mother's perspective of the aftermath of the disease.
God bless
No comments:
Post a Comment