The ebbs and flows

The books tell me that grief ebbs and flows like waves. Good. Then we can describe last weekend as a tsunami.

This business of grief is not easy, it is not simple, nor is it for the faint of heart, and I don’t want to package it that way in my tidy little 800-word blog vignettes. Grief is the big-bad wolf dressed in grandma’s nightgown waiting to pounce at any second. Sometimes I am strong enough to say “what big teeth you have,” then pull out the hunter’s shot gun and shoot, and other times the big bad wolf jumps out of the bed and gobbles me up in one mouthful.

Fortunately for me, when the nasty monster gobbles me up in one mouthful, I remain whole and can dig my way up from his greasy, acidic stomach cavity, up through his slimy, dirty esophagus, past his yellowed, sour smelling teeth, and into fresh air where I can regroup and rebuild.

In the three plus months since my son, Nicholas’ passing, I have experienced a range of emotion that no one ever wants to have on his or her resume; they are my emotions, part of the life I now lead, and so I will own them. I experience highs and lows, and as a result, I get stronger. In this amount of time, I have observed human strength and tenacity that boggles my mind and gives me more and more hope for tomorrow.

My daughter, Elise, has learned to power up inner strength all the way from the depths of her big toe and successfully manages her first year of marriage, an accelerated master’s program, as well as an internship through this difficult time. She epitomizes resilience and serves as such a positive role model for Roger and me. Scott, my son in law, goes so far above and beyond the expectations of a first year husband in his support. We are blessed beyond words.

Roger walks down the basement stairs to his crossover vehicle at six every morning, whether he feels like it or not, and does not return until early evening. It is his job, and he knows how to do it.

Me. I put one foot in front of the other, and sometimes in my mouth. I manage as I see fit and feel that I am growing into myself more each day. I can now look into the mirror and kind of sort of see remnants of the person I used to be and that feels good. Life seems to gain speed each day, and my step almost has a bit of spring in it. In other words, I feel progress happening in my life and in the lives of the family.

So, what happened Saturday? Grief is like that - a monster that hides in corners and jumps out to grab. Saturday, we decided to sort through Nick’s things for the first time. I wanted to open suitcases of his clothes and surround myself with them. I needed to hold up pajama pants that I could picture at the breakfast table, socks that needed balled, and t shirts that proclaimed “Life is Good.” But the waves overwhelmed.

I took the dogs for a walk and brought in the mail. Fresh air and exercise, I thought, would revitalize my soul, but did not anticipate the fire-breathing mailbox holding documents regarding his death. The swells grew, and that was about the time that the lace-edged wolf bared his teeth at me.

Things fell apart. I fell apart. Grief waves swelled.

The purpose of sharing these great revelations is that grief is real. It hurts. But, through it all these past few days, I kept in the back of my shriveled little mind that I have been strong before, and with God’s help, I can reside in the place of peace again.

I read the words “Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9. I know this and believe it. So, from deep inside, I visualize the times when I have managed grief, when I rode the waves onto a warm beach, rather than fighting and thrashing in a rip tide. I know what peace feels like and I can pull from that feeling to revive my strength.

The road is not easy, but I can do this, one day at a time. People who have been through tragedy tell me there is sunshine ahead, and on rainy days, I like to think of sunshine.
So, for now, it is Valentine’s Day and if Roger is going to have a Valentine’s Day dinner, I need to wrap up and go in the kitchen to cook.