More than a Bug on the Wall

I was watching a television show the other day when a small gimlet of conversation landed on me with a rather emotional thud.

"Grief takes its own path. And it's a different one for every person."

It was said in regards to a woman who'd had a particularly calm reaction to the death of her husband. But it could definitely apply to many people. Including me.

Grief is universal. Everyone experiences it, if life is long enough. Loss is ALWAYS hard, but not everyone walks the same path. And we don't always walk the same path with each loss. My mother died in November 2014; my daughter died in February. My grief for them is remarkably different, and, yes, this surprised me. Mother, in turn, lost her mother in 1985, and missed her every day. My dad died in 1996, and I'm convinced Mother never quite got over that loss. One way that showed up was that she couldn't bring herself to sell the car he bought for her just before he died.

And I've come to realize that grief has blindsided me in ways I didn't expect. One of those is an intense forgetfulness, a loss of memory that is sometimes crippling. I try to recall something and it's like staring into a dark tunnel. I know what I need is on the other side, but I can't seem to get there.

So if I owe you ANYTHING--email, blog post, phone call--please remind me. Although I have a calendar I check every day, I've discovered that I haven't written everything down, relying one a memory that until recently was quite good.

Not now. So don't hesitate to ask. It will not bother me for you to do so.

That memory loss can be short term as well. I often forget I made tea--and sometimes lunch. I call editing projects by the wrong name, and blend due dates (NOT a good thing). 

I honestly didn't expect it to linger the way it has either. Some days I am quite chipper and productive. Others...not so much. The sadness comes out of nowhere and knocks me off my carefully reclaimed high ground. Unpredictable and dreadfully hard on the work schedule.

@2016 by Jerry Box

Friends have been patient, although I'm sure they get tired of me suddenly staring off into space as if I've spotted a large bug on the wall.

The good news in all this is that there ARE good days. A lot of them. More as time goes along. More good news is that I have great friends who have both left me alone (when I need it) and listened to me mourn (when I have to). My church has been spectacular. And God is there too, helping me back toward the high ground. But that journey to the high ground takes time, through the good moments--and the bad.

I tend to only socialize during the good times. So when someone asks how I'm doing, I'll say, "I'm fine." And I am. Truly. One step on the path at a time.

Where I've Been; Where I'm Going

Most folks who follow me on Facebook already know that the last couple of weeks have been consumed with the details and grief of my daughter’s death. Rachel, who had outlived the doctors’ prognosis by almost twenty years, was twenty-eight. Her memorial service was on March 5^th, a celebration of Rachel’s life that drew far more people than I expected.

This was a blessing, making it a day full of hugs, reassurances of love, and plans to come. Reminders that there is still a future for the rest of us can make such a time a touch easier.

Rachel was a true joy to be around, and I will miss her more than I can say. Going on with life will not be easy, as anyone who’s experienced great loss knows all too well. I walked a similar path myself, only 16 months ago, when my mother died. Six months passed before I began to write about her life, remembering especially what she’d left behind: her wisdom, practicality, faith, and integrity, along with a mountain of handmade quilts.

As all of those things began to weave together, her legacy formed clearly in my mind, and I began to write devotionals about Mother. The result was a book, My Mother’s Quilts, which releases tomorrow, March 8^th…only three days after Rachel’s memorial service. My author’s copies of the book arrived at my house the day Rachel died.

It reminds me of an event a few years ago, when I called my writer-friend Krista Phillips to offer her a contract on a book. My call came around the same time that she found out that her youngest daughter needed heart surgery to survive. It put the whole “publishing thing” into perspective for her…and me.

Perspective: That life is filled with extraordinary goodness and unbelievable sadness…and that God will help us through all of it, with strength and wisdom. He will guide us on the paths forward, even as our steps wander uncertainly.

My grief is still raw and unpredictable…but I also want to honor and respect those who have stood beside me. So, yes, I will try now to focus on deadlines and marketing, which are a solace as well as a responsibility. And the Lord, who gave me this gift that has gotten me through so much as well as providing a way for me to honor all those who have gone before.