I’m awake and alive this morning.
This grief thing is really weird. One moment, I can’t stop the tears. The next moment, it’s like all this never happened, and I feel almost normal. Then, there’s the in-between times that make no sense to me at all.
It’s also very physical. I wasn’t really prepared for that.
I’m so glad Levi’s here, but I almost feel a little guilty since neither my mom nor my sisters have someone to fill that hole. I know it’s kind of silly to feel that way, but I can’t help it. I figure, since it’s a feeling, it will pass eventually, and I try to remember (not very successfully) that I can use my feelings to fuel my prayers for those I love.
Also, I keep finding more reasons to open my eyes to see God’s image in people. People are mostly amazing. Jerks and idiots are fewer and farther between than the news would have us believe.
In the middle of all of this, hearing about the shooting in Connecticut just about breaks me. It puts things in perspective, for sure. It reminds me that we are not the only ones who have lost someone important to us. We are not the only ones in need of comfort. Our world feels small right now, but it is really very big, and there is so much to pray for. There are so many people who could benefit from the compassion of someone who can say, “I’m grieving too, and I’m so sorry. You’re not alone.”
Dad’s memorial was wonderful. And painful. I can’t really write about it yet.
Dad’s interment was worse. I wanted to curl up next to his little urn (that’s really all that’s left?), and just stay there. I can’t even begin to tell you how much Mom hurt that day. It’s like she was the personification of pain. I can’t describe it. It rained.
It’s snowing. In Roseburg. Weird. The kids are thrilled! There is a quiet loveliness to snow. It seems fitting somehow. The kids are coming down with some kind of virus, which is weird, because they haven’t been sick even once while we’ve been here. They just decided to wait until the week we need to get ready to leave.
We are preparing to head for Colorado at the end of this week, and I’m terrified to leave. I know my sisters, as well as my aunt and uncle, will take care of Mommy, but who is going to keep an eye on Trina and Jen in their pain? Who is going to minister to them? I can still do that through phone calls and emails and whatnot, but once again — I can’t be HERE.
I have to leave, again.
I cannot complain, though. I really can’t. There is still too much good in the world. Too much to be thankful for. Too many people who love me, care for me, and pray for me.
I can do this. My mom and sisters and I can do this. By the grace of God.
Grace & Peace,