I Didn’t Cry, But Then I Did

This past weekend was an emotional one.

My deployed son began his trek back home to his wife and newborn son.

My youngest son went on the bachelor trip with his soon to be brother-in-law and was incommunicado for almost 72  hours which always makes me nervous.

My daughter’s wedding is only a few weeks away and there is so much to do. Fun things.  Things I want to do.

My companion animal and faithful sidekick died two weeks ago and I haven’t been sleeping nearly as well as I did before

It was the fifth anniversary of Dominic’s death and funeral.

I didn’t cry, but then I did. 

And I couldn’t stop. 

I just couldn’t stop.

How in the world can it be five years?  I can’t explain it to anyone who hasn’t buried a child. But I keep trying.  The giant chasm between what I thought life would be like and what it actually turned out to be is so wide that it’s impossible to comprehend.  I’m living it and I can’t comprehend it.

dom on mountaintop

I am trying so, so hard to participate.

I’m working at keeping grief at bay and leaning into the life I have without constantly comparing it to the life I thought I would have or the life I wanted instead.  I’m purposing to keep my expectations low so I won’t be disappointed.

But it’s not working.

I think I’m just at the end of my personal resources.  I think I’ve exhausted any reserve I might have had.  I’m leaning into Truth and holding onto the hem of His garment.

I know it won’t always be this way.  

The tears will dry up.  They always do.  

Tomorrow is a new day.  

finish each day and be done with it emerson

 

 

 

 

 

Author: Melanie

I am a shepherd, wife and mother of four amazing children, three that walk the earth with me and one who lives with Jesus. This is a record of my grief journey and a look into the life I didn't choose. If you are interested in joining a community of bereaved parents leaning on the promises of God in Christ, please like the public Facebook page, "Heartache and Hope: Life After Losing a Child" and join the conversation.

8 thoughts on “I Didn’t Cry, But Then I Did”

  1. Sounds like you had a tough weekend.
    I like a long walk when I’ve had enough. Or even a massage? A good cry at a movie. Big hug.
    I just passed the 7 year anniversary of my daughter’s death. Our 2 pets died 3 years ago and both my grandparents died in the last 5 years… Not to mention friends that have passed by suicide and overdose lately. It’s hard. But we deal. Keep writing.💜🌱

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  2. Hang in there Melanie! You can do this. You’ve had SO many HUGE, emotional life events back-to-back, so cut yourself a little slack. Accept that your emotions are raw, and let yourself cry. Then let yourself enjoy the sunshine on your face, and the warmth of those who surround you. The 5 year mark was difficult for me too … I kept thinking to myself “SERIOUSLY?!?! … can I really carry this burden, this heartache, for the rest of my life?” Now, we are almost 10 years into this journey. Still, the emotions ebb and flow. We still make the comparisons, and feel the void in important life events (well, everyday really). Our daughter is getting married soon and my husband and I have both had some deep, dark spells where we just can’t wrap our heads around the fact that our son will not be here to participate (nor will he ever be married, or have children, or share his smile/laughter, or …). Yet, it should be such a joyous occasion. She is so happy, and she has chosen an amazing partner for life. So we are determined to be happy on that special day too … we’ll see how successful our attempts will be.
    P.S. Our only son Robby died in a boating accident at 15, so we understand the effects of sudden loss of a vibrant teenage life.

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  3. I thought of you, Dominic and Roosevelt this morning Melanie. My heart hurts for you. Thank you for still writing, even when it is hard for you. You’ll never know how much you help us.

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  4. Somedays, the overwhelming little things of joy brings on the unexpected loss of expectations. It’s ok though, it’s all good and necessary. It’s all part of grieving. Hugs.

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  5. Your words have become a part of my daily serenity. Your raw and open heartedness in this journey allows for the rest of us to keep learning and growing in faith with you.
    Thankyou-

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  6. So much going on for you Melanie, we can’t juggle all of the balls, all of the time, it’s exhausting.
    You survived to face another day on this journey we don’t understand.
    Peace be with you today xxx

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