6 months hit like a sucker punch from out of the blue. I was struggling and not sure why really 6 months felt like day 2. But it did. I cried almost daily. I could not stop thinking about my dad. So many memories washed over me during that 6 month window.
In my struggling I felt compelled to write. I mean really, writing is the way I make sense of what is coming in and out of me. So I needed to sit and write.
But I didn’t want to do it.
Compelled but yet resisting at the same time.
I knew to sit and write would mean to enter into a hard place. I would need to remember details my mind was trying to forget. Except, my heart didn’t want to forget. So there was that battle as well.
I wavered. Maybe I should just let those memories fly. Fly far away.
But still I was drawn to the page in some sort of twisted battle .I called myself out and hid at the same time.
And then one quote.
“The pathway to your greatest success is often through your greatest fear.” Craig Groeschel (Catalyst Conference)
I WAS afraid. But I needed to go through it.
Suddenly I was there. Wrapped in the swirling day of remembrance. I sat in it. I watched it happen almost as a spectator. Words began to fly about and I caught them before they were gone. They landed hard and cold but also warmly with grace wrapped around me. When I was finished I truly felt some sort of release. Grieving is a crazy journey. It covers you at times like a heavy blanket and other times it takes you so close to heaven you think you might be touching it.
Last week, I bumped into a friend who knows soul shattering loss. She said, quietly, “It has been 6 months right? Because for me, 6 months was a surprise and it was hard.”
Yes. Yes. How did she know? But she did and that acknowledgement reminded me there is a path I am asked to walk and others have as well. Still yet, others walk beside me and some behind me. We never journey alone.
But, If we will share our words and our fears at the same time, perhaps we will all go through—even when we are afraid. Especially when we are afraid.
[callout]I have not written many words here in the past few months. Mostly because of life moving crazy fast. But also, there are book deadlines and other places calling for my words. I’m committed to be here. It is my favorite place to be. Because you are here. So today, I’m just writing. Raw. Words. Thoughts. Pretty much unedited. Just so you know. I’m here, still. More to come. [/callout]
Beautiful. Real. Raw. Writing it down is the best way to get it all out, isn’t it? If we just let it all out, there is that sense of what once seemed untouchable…relief. The words you write always wash over me like a much needed rain shower. Thank you for your honesty. Thank you for your bravery. “We never journey alone.” Thank you for reminding us of that during your season of difficulty. Remembering will get easier and one day, it will be welcomed.
Six months is when all hell broke loose for me. It’s the point where you just can’t hold it together anymore. I hit the wall then, and felt like I was going absolutely insane. I couldn’t process everything going through my head, and it scared me. That’s when I sought out solid Christian counseling, and it helped IMMENSELY. Grief is a volatile thing. Praying for you because I have been there and I know how hard it is to walk through. But as someone almost 8 years out, I’ll tell you that there’s hope. It gets… different. Sometimes better, sometimes easier, sometimes not. But the time makes a difference and allows you to get control of your head again, to know HOW to deal with the grief as it comes, and lets you see what’s going to be a trigger and prepare for it. I’ll be totally honest and say I’m still processing the faith side of things. Having someone to talk to is VITAL, and getting space for yourself to process WITH the Lord instead of apart from Him is also key (and one of the things I am still working on!). Praying for you today. Have a good cry, grab some wine, and wear your favorite comfy cardigan. 🙂
Grief is raw and painful but a growing experience too. Our family is getting ready to go through this process with a uncle that has pancreatic cancer and has 6 to 12 months to live though it really looks like a matter of weeks. I still deeply grieve the loss of my dad and it has been 18 years. I feel the loss deeply at holidays and other family events. Love the cuff pictured. It is a matter of choosing hope.