Anatomy of Healing

I wrote this blog post 2 years ago regarding the loss of my mom, but it still holds true on the doorstep of the 10th anniversary of her passing…

“Time heals all wounds…” and “It will get easier…” Those are two phrases I have heard a lot over the past 8 years (sigh…EIGHT years. How has it been 8 years?). Well, I’m here to tell you from the depths of my heart and guts that those two phrases are meaningless, arbitrary, and totally off the mark. Things change. You aren’t always so raw, so distracted by grief and disbelief that you put orange juice in your coffee instead of creamer. You settle into a new “normal,” but there is always something unsettling and OFF just a little bit. Just below the surface. It’s a melancholy peppered onto the joyous and memorable events of your life, because you know your kids will have those memories with her not in them. For the most part, they have no recollection of her…and she meant more to you than you can ever explain to them. Oh yeah, this must have been what it was like for her to try and describe her precious Daddy to you. You felt her adoration for him in her words and facial expressions as she told stories of their antics. But that’s all they were. Stories. There were no emotions attached for you. So it’s a sadness. Knowing your kids won’t feel her through your stories like they would if she were here. Let’s face it…she was indescribable. And it’s also a little irrational moment of panic when your spouse leaves out the door to go to the store. “Don’t go!” you want to scream. “Don’t leave me! What if something happens to you?!?” Sure, you had snippets of silly worries like that all your life, but never with real and relatable emotions attached. You restrain yourself from sounding like a lunatic every time one of your loved ones leaves your presence, but it often leaves you breathless for a few minutes. Please understand, I recognize that these are all #wordlyproblems and when I get to heaven I will be reunited with her, and we will dance and sing. I am not sad for her. I’m sad that during my brief time left on this earth, shopping trips have lost their appeal, the front porch at the farm is lonely, and I’ll never look at a lady bug the same way again. This time of year is hard. We are not guaranteed anything in this life. But my hope is in the Lord, and the eternity I will get to spend singing His praises in heaven.

3 thoughts on “Anatomy of Healing

  1. I have experienced profound sadness t having missed knowing your mom. Your post brought tears. Perhaps because I have losses of my own that help me tap the grief. A lovely woman. I wish I had known her.

    Liked by 1 person

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