Grief is a interesting process. I really think I am doing well sometimes and then just the smallest comment or sight or thought or prayer can send me tumbling back down. For three days now I have fought the tears, all day long, every moment. I am just sad. I watch Loughlin's friends driving, or hear their parents talk about how well they are doing in sports or school and my heart aches. I am not angry anymore, at least not at them. I would be proud too if my son was doing so well. It just hurts. I want him back. I know it isn't possible but I need him back in our life. I watch how his brothers struggle each day, how they have to find a new way to cope with this new life and I can't breath. I feel so responsible for it all.
We lost our family dog yesterday. 6 years ago, Christmas morning each of the three older boys got a dog from Santa. Cyrus' died soon after when the wire he was tied up with malfunctioned. Loughlin's left 6 weeks after he died and we never saw her , (Little Anne after his favorite book)again. True's was the last survivor. Bruschi named after his favorite football player Tedy Bruschi. He was hit by our hired man and killed yesterday. I loved that dog he was beautiful.
Our sale is close. I feel overwhelmed. New challenges present themselves everyday and I am wading through, but I am tired. I feel like going to sleep and waking up in a few months when I can handle this better.
1 comment:
Kenda,
Thank you for your comments. I, too, remember my rambled thoughts after Evan died. I questioned the Eternities and felt fear. The newness of loss in C.S. Lewis' grief journals validate difficult emotions. It is helpful, especially when thoughts creep in that you are alone in your grief. I think of his book the same as many blogs I read.
Like you, I have expressed some very raw emotions online. Unfortunately, sometimes those writings are misunderstood. But the greater benefit is that they provide a deeper level of connection between sharers.
Do you read Sheye Rosemeyer's blog? http://www.sheyerosemeyerphotography.com/blog/ She lost her daughter a few years ago. She's been through so much these past years and a lot of it she kept private. I cried for her all over again when reading what she finally made public.
I think of you and others and what you share online is only a fraction of what you face every day. May God bless you as you continue your walk with grief. Sometimes, it's not even a walk. It's a hard climb. Or trudging through the mud...or quicksand.
Big hugs,
Bridget
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