I haven’t blogged in several weeks because there isn’t much new to say. There is an underlying guilt (false guilt) because I’m not miles down this road of grief, topping the hill and seeing new horizons. I’m encouraged to find a new life, new friends, new purpose, but sometimes it just takes too much effort. I’m so weary.
The grieving process is not linear, it isn’t on a time table. The second year is harder than the first, living in the third is unbelievable. My question is how does the one in grief suddenly change perspectives in two years, or four, or five, after living one way for forty-five? I could ask the same for one living in it after twenty, thirty, or fifteen.
Death has many faces. Obviously, the loss of a spouse is devastating, but what about loss of a husband through divorce? I’ve not experienced that but I’ve talked to numerous women who have. What about the loss of a child, a parent, a sibling, a best friend? Their cycles of grief are the same, never linear, never easy. The common denominator is disbelief, emptiness, loneliness.
For me, the losses are many. The loss of my husband, church family and community, friendships. It is my observation from experience, and from other widows expressing the same thing, that some people, “friends”, disappear once the dust from death settles. Ive had loss of a ministry, the betrayal of “one I have broken bread with…” , the loss of family dynamics, and on and on. So much, so much, and their are periods of time that it is unbearable.
Earthly relationships are fragile, and at the end of the day, when the door closes, the echo of an empty house is quite loud. It is easy for someone to tell the grieving how it should be but not so simple walking the dry, dusty, intensely hot road. Don’t offer words (though well meaning) of wisdom until you’ve been detoured from a set route. You’ll find the path unfamiliar and frightening.
For me personally, God has allowed these things to be removed from my life in order to deepen my faith, to recognize that He is enough, even though it doesn’t feel like it sometimes. In my spirit I know that, in my humanness, sometimes not. There is a such a void.
Someone once said that the greater the love, the greater the loss. I loved well and was loved greatly. Why would I expect the grief to be any less? I don’t know what tomorrow looks like, I only know that today seems bleak. Perhaps I will soon top the hill and discover brighter valleys. That is what I hope. Until then, I take two steps and breathe. It’s the only and best thing to do.
From My Heart 