I’m somewhat back into the swing of life. Sorta by force. My sister and I have chatted about how it’s really hard to grieve when you have kids. All their needs are the same, regardless of our state of mind.
Yet, even if motherhood stood still, the demands of life would still call. I still need to eat, shower, and stay healthy. Work needs to be done; responsibilities can only be held off for so long.
So I’ve jumped back into the rhythm of life. In some ways it feels really good to work again, to do the things I love and give me energy. Moments, even hours go by now when I don’t think of James.
Then it hits me. All over again.
Reality attempts to sink in, but it still seems like a really bad dream; like I’m going to wake up in the morning and it will all be just a darkness that melts away with the rise of the sun. Yet the sun comes day after day and the darkness does not go away, and sometimes that painful darkness overcomes and I have to just let it come.
Sometimes it comes in the kitchen as I prep my water bottle for the day. Oftentimes, it’s at night as I settle into bed, or triggered by a picture found, a memory recalled, or a message from a friend of his with their own sweet memory of James to share.
And when the darkness does come, I weep. I mourn the loss of James, as well as everything that is to come that I will miss out on now that he is gone.
My heart aches when I allow myself to grab a hold of reality. I envision the last time I saw him and wish I had hugged him just a little bit tighter, and it’s not that I want to forget him, but sometimes the pain in remembering is just too much.
So, I still weep. I have a feeling I always will.
Grief can be so unpredictable. Sending lots of love your way, Katie, and praying for comfort in the grief.
Oh friend…sending love to you…and praying God meets you in intimate ways as you learn to live in this grief journey. Know I care and you are loved. I’m sorry yet thankful you’re sharing with us. xoxo
Thanks, Jacque. I feel like I can blog about it better than I can articulate verbally, at times. Appreciate your encouragement.
I don’t think it gets any easier with the passage of time, we just get used to living without them. God gives us our strength to walk through one day at a time.
Love that picture of the four of you! Thinking of and praying for you often, my friend. XO
Thanks, Marjorie. I think this was the summer right after we all left Auburn. James was still in High School. Thankful for the few pictures we have of all four of us.
katie i am ever so sorry and (((HUGS)))
the pictures you show of your brother with family and the one with you two in the car is AWESOME
Please try not to regret..although that is human nature is it not? i do the same and my sister died 21 yrs ago…thank you for putting what you feel out there…it mirrors what i have felt for the last decade and counting…
It is hard not to regret, but I choose to trust that he knew he was loved. The picture of us in the car was here in Kentucky. He was able to come up with my parents and my sister and her family. So thankful for that time.
Thank you for sharing how you are doing. I was thinking about you very recently and wondering how things were going. You are in my thoughts and prayers. I’m sorry that you are hurting. I pray that the Lord will give you comfort and strength in the midst of the pain.
holding you close in prayer
Hey Katie- We haven’t talked since the summer…but I wanted you to know you’ve been near my heart and in my prayers since I heard of your loss. I continually pray the mighty arms of God hold you close. Much love, Francie
Thank you so much for your prayers, Francie.
I’m so sorry for your loss. This is the first I heard of it. My father passed in 1979, when I was 17 years old. He was 47. I remember thinking how sad it was that he never got to see his grandchildren. Then, in the delivery room with my 2nd son, I got the distinct impression that my father knew. Praying for you and your family.
Thanks for sharing your story with me. Thankful we serve a God who comforts.
Comments are closed.