September Grief

This blog has been very silent lately because I have been a little lost in shadow. I find myself restless, and yet not wanting to do anything other than sleep. I am easily irritated and very quickly overwhelmed. Going back to “normal life” is very, very difficult. And I find myself fiercely not wanting to do it.

I have to go through my days as a zombie or I can’t go through them at all… If I think about it, even a little bit, I fall. And it seems like any little thing can trigger a sob or a complete breakdown.

Even something so simple as stocking food could make me crumble into tears because maybe it was a can of tomato paste that my dad always put in his sauces, or maybe it was one of the countless packaged dinners he would buy for me to take to work or school, or maybe it was just some new salsa I wished we could try together.

Fall television shows are starting up again. This is going to be a hard one, because television and movies were one of the big ways my dad and I spent time together. Last year, I didn’t get to be with him, but our favorite shows would often be the subject of our many phone conversations. “Did you see this episode of Big Bang Theory?” “I thought it was so hilarious when he said this…” “I new you’d be laughing when she said that…” “Can you believe the plot changes on Once Upon a Time?”

Catching Fire comes out soon, and the Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug. I’ll have to see them without you. We never actually got to see An Unexpected Journey together.

My brother made pumpkin pie, and I ate some for breakfast. I know you would’ve done the same.

I can hardly handle seeing elderly people, especially at work, because I know you’ll never be one of them. And yet, at the same time, I am a little relieved that you no longer have to work that part-time stocking job just to pay the bills.

At the funeral, my aunt leaned over and whispered to my brother and I, “You were his world.” And you really were so deeply embedded in mine.

I’m so glad you got to spend so much time with your grandkids. They miss you a lot. And I really can’t handle it when they start to have horrendous meltdowns because they couldn’t have a toy or they can’t follow “daddy” around every waking minute… when I feel like I’m having a horrendous breakdown all the time, because I really can’t have my daddy and I moved away from my friends and I can’t find a church and I can’t go to work and I don’t know what I’m doing…

I miss you.

I’m so self-absorbed. I’m so dramatic. I’m so despairing…

But I just really miss you.

Recently, I devoured this new book, Pastrix by Nadia-Bolz Weber, and her words really seemed to calm me down. I have to read them over and over again to remind myself that God is sovereign and you are at peace and everything is going to be… okay, somehow, and not just okay, but amazing…

She writes: “Singing in the midst of evil is what it means to be disciples. Like Mary Magdalene, the reason we can stand and weep and listen for Jesus is because we, like Mary, are bearers of resurrection, we are made new. On the third day, Jesus rose again, and we do not need to be afraid. To sing to God amidst sorrow is to defiantly proclaim, like Mary Magdalene did to the apostles, … that death is not the final word. To defiantly say, once again, that a light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot, will not, shall not overcome it.”

Shall not overcome it. You are singing in the light of the presence of God, and I have that light within me. I will sing, though my voice may crack through sobs and sometimes I may just want to sway in the corner to the alleluias.
But I will try.
And even in darkness our God says He will quiet me with His love and rejoice over me with His singing. Amen.

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One thought on “September Grief

  1. Pingback: Thin Places | evermind: Chased by Light

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