Sometimes you just can’t outrun grief. No matter how you try to shine the light on it, it isn’t going to be pretty. We can’t wrap it up in a tidy little box with a pretty red bow on top. We can tap dance till the cows come home…it’s not going to change the fact that you still get visited by the gift that just won’t stop freaking giving.
It can be a sunset. The way the light hits the water. A half-empty jar of jellybeans. A song on the radio. A hug from a dear friend. You can be cruising along just fine and suddenly feel as though you’ve run into a brick wall. I don’t know why it works like that. I don’t understand grief anymore than you do. I’m no scientific expert. I don’t think the scientific experts know anymore about grief than you and I do…unless they personally have walked this path. I’ve learned what I know from personal experience, just as most of you have. Sometimes I come across something I read that makes sense to me, but mostly I’m just winging this. I’m fortunate enough to receive gifts of insight and I try to share them with you.
One thing I do know…after some time has passed, the waves are farther apart. They’re usually much smaller but every once in a while a big one comes crashing down and the only thing you can do is lean into it and ride it out. I made a conscious decision when the third angelversary came that I wasn’t going to talk about grief all the time. I can’t. I don’t think it’s healthy for me to immerse myself all the time. But, I also think it’s extremely healthy to open that box every once in a while and acknowledge that there’s still pain in my heart and that’s ok. That’s beyond ok.
When my grief reared its ugly head a couple days ago, I took it out and held onto it for a couple days. I let myself feel everything my heart was trying to tell me. I encouraged it to break my heart open again so I could do a little housekeeping in there. And once I get through that, I’m fine. As I wrote this last night, the wave was pretty much spent and I was coasting back in to shore. I’m sure when I wake up this morning, I’ll be fine. It’s the nature of grief…the waxing and waning of emotion as we try to make sense of something so totally crazy. I’ll continue to be fine till the next wave hits because now…I’m ok.
❤️
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
Philippians 4:6-7 NIV