Counselors tell the bereaved that grief will change them.
They readily acknowledge that life after loss will never be the same as it was before death entered our world. But they encourage us that there will be a “new normal”–different, yes, but some kind of settled pattern that we can count on.
I’m not sure when this is supposed to happen.
Every day I feel out out of balance, off-kilter and have to scramble to catch up to the clock ticking off the hours. I can’t find the pattern, the beat…
Grief sways to a rhythm of its own.
Hard to follow, impossible to second guess.
I step on my own toes trying to keep up and find that often I fall flat on my face.
When Dominic applied to the University of Alabama Law School, he had to submit a personal statement. The idea was to give the selection committee insight into intangibles that might make a prospective student a good candidate for the program.
Dominic wrote about being a drummer.
He made the case that percussion is the heartbeat of music. It marks the pace, leads the way. If a drummer misses a beat, it can throw the whole band into confusion.
My life as a bereaved mother feels like music that can’t find its way.
There is melody and harmony and sometimes sweet singing–but I can’t discern a rhythm and I don’t know where it’s going. Discord clangs loudly in the background.
These years were supposed to be the ones where I swayed instinctively in well-worn paths to familiar tunes.
Not ones in which I had to learn a brand new step to a song I don’t even like.
I don’t have the option to request a different tune, so I do my best to keep moving to this broken beat.
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thelifeididntchoose 
I can so identify with this post Melanie! This thought especially…..”These years were supposed to be the ones where I swayed instinctively in well-worn paths to familiar tunes.” I thought I was going to be enjoying John living next door and having his two children so close when they were with him every other weekend and during the summers. Now John is gone and even though our two grandchildren are very much alive we are being denied the opportunity to see or even talk with them! It’s just grief on top of grief! But we pray many times a day that God will do some kind of a miracle in this area! It’s hard to wait on Him sometimes though. 😦
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When we expected our lives to follow a path we had looked forward to for years and they take an awful detour, it’s so hard! I pray that you will soon be able to see and hold your grandchildren. ❤
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Oh Melanie once again you’ve written a “spot on” post. I love the comparison you used from what Dominic had written in his statement. I still am trying to learn the steps to this dance that’s called, “Living while grieving .” I have family that just don’t understand. If you say, “I’m fine today ” they don’t understand why you’re maybe crying or depressed or just in a funk the next day. It is so good to connect with people that do understand. Also I love the way you always point a grieving parent back to the love of our Heavenly Father. Thank you Melanie for your words of encouragement, inspiration and even sometimes rebuke. Some of your posts have stepped on my toes and I thank you for that.
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I know. One of the things about this journey is that the beat changes every day, sometimes several times a day. We are in one rhythm which is family life as it is today and one rhythm in our hearts which is family life as we wish it were. Then there is the rhythm of the missing beats. So, so hard. You are an encourager Pauline, and I consider you a precious gift. ❤
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The days go by and I get little if anything accomplished. Never finished all I wanted to do with Christmas decorations. It really didn’t matter. After 2 years 2 months I’m still sitting here waiting for that new normal.
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Oh my Melanie you’ve spoken truly again!
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My wife said to me the other day I have no inertia. Seems like a perfect description for me since Philip died last year.
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