I don't know why, but I'm always surprised when, out of the blue, I am hit with an overwhelming sense of grief over all that's happened these past two years. And quite honestly, I get angry at myself, because I somehow think that I should be “over it” by now.
As if someone can really “get over” losing their father and their own child, within 2-1/2 months of each other, right? But for whatever reason, I find myself mad when the grief is heavier than usual, and wonder what's wrong with me.
This past weekend, as I was enjoying some down time with my kids, I was suddenly filled with this saddening awareness that my oldest daughter should be here laughing along with us. I was overwhelmed by the reality that she's gone, and that she chose to leave.
My mind then began to replay the events of that first year after she left; one devastating crisis after another playing vividly in my mind. I was shocked that I could still remember even the smallest details of that time, and that the pain is still very raw and real.
Not a day goes by when I don't think of her, and long to hear her laugh and to see her smile light up the room. And I like to go back to when things were good between us and her, and remember how we could laugh so hard together, and enjoy just being in the same room.
But those days were a long time ago, and now the bad times are so painful that they seem to have crowded out the good.
The tears still come easily when I think of her, and the heartache is often more than any mother should have to bear.
I've come to the conclusion that there's no deadline for grief, no magical end to pain or despair.
And thankfully, on the flip side, there's no end to God's love and care for me as I walk through sorrow and grief.