The Mystery of Grief

Grief. It’s a mysterious thing, really; not handled the same by any two alike.

 

it comes in waves— sometimes expected, sometimes not, and it can shake you to the very core.

 

It’s unpredictable, life-altering, and life-changing, all wrapped up in one.

 

Though I had walked through the deaths of extended family members here and there, nothing quite prepared me for the loss of my dad two and a half years ago, followed by our daughter walking out two months later.

 

It was then that grief took on an all new meaning for me; changing my heart–and life–forever.

 

My dad’s death didn’t come as a big surprise, as he’d walked through Alzheimer’s for nine years prior, and went downhill fast;

 

By my daughter leaving….that rocked me to the very core.

 

I grieved the loss of my dad, but the grief came and went, leaving me with bittersweet memories, and a thankfulness that my dad is now in heaven, where we’ll one day be reunited again.

 

But the loss of my daughter has a produced a grief that has been never-ending. A grief that rears it’s ugly head when I least expect it; bringing me to my knees, and leading me to plead with God once again.

 

Though my daughter didn’t die, I feel as though she did. There’s an emptiness in my heart, and an aching to be with her once again.

 

There’s a sadness that never goes away; and tears hidden behind smiles, in hope of masquerading the pain.

 

How does a mom accept the loss of a child–living or dead–and fully recover, free of pain?

 

How does a mom handle her adult child walking away, informing her to never contact them again?

 

And how, pray tell, does a mom move on, letting go of the one she bore so many years ago; one who is a part of her—her very own flesh and blood?

 

I don’t have the answers to all these questions, and there’s a possibility I never will.

and there are so many uncertainties and unknowns, with no way of ever predicting the outcome of the trials we face.

Through these past two years, there have been many times when I’ve wondered if I’d make it through; times when I’ve doubted if I’d ever know joy or happiness again….

 

And it’s in those times, that the sweet Spirit of God reminds me ever so gently Who’s I am, and where my joy comes from.

 

I am reminded that God sees my every tear, and that he will one day bring beauty from these ashes in my life.

 

 

 

And while I know that troubles will come and the future may seem unclear, I can rest in the safety of God’s sweet love for me, knowing that no matter how painful the trial, He will carry me all the way.

Never Stop Holding My Hand

 

For sixteen years you have held my hand and have never left my side. On our wedding day, you pledged to love me, for better or for worse, and time and time again, you've held to that promise, never letting go. Little did we know that there would not just be hard times, but that there would be heartache, sorrow, and loss so deep, that unless a marriage is strong, a couple would never survive. You held my hand, as I held my dad's for the very last time, and you weeped with me as I said good-bye. And when the bottom fell out of our world, and we lost our precious daughter to a world that just wants to eat her alive, you never let go of my hand….you've cried with with me, and prayed with me, and when depression has tried to have its way and destroy me—once again, you've never let go. Our love truly gets sweeter–and deeper–as the years go by, and I promise, my love, that I'll never stop holding your hand.

 

** I'm joining Lisa-Jo and many others for Five-minute Friday, where we simply write for five minutes…no editing, no worries….just write. Today's word prompt: hands.

 

Mother’s Day can bring both joy and tears….

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