I have no idea how it happened but my “get up and go” has gotten up and left.
For the first time since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven, I’m utterly incapable of talking myself out of the doldrums.
I’m not especially sad or anxious, just worn out and uninterested in making progress down my “to do” list.
There are so, so many chores that are best done during these too-brief perfect spring days and I’ve barely managed two. I’m usually rushing from daylight to dark taking advantage of cooler temperatures and comfortable breezes. By now (in a typical year) the porches would be clean, the yard tidied up, some fences mended and windows washed.
Not this year.
Each morning I begin afresh, promising to do better, to make more progress, to finish up the random bits of long-overdue projects and by noon I’m done. Back in the same funk that’s pursued me for over a month.
I understood it better when we were covered up by clouds, drenched in rain and shivering in the cold.
But I can’t figure out why sunshine and flowers, birdsong and breeze hasn’t made a difference and given me an infusion of enthusiasm.
I’ve tried all the usual remedies-eating right, exercise, checking my meds and supplements-but they aren’t effective.
Maybe the struggle against a natural downward trend is what keeps me from truly resting and bouncing back.
I might just give in for a few days and see if that works.
I’ll let you know. ❤
“God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good.” ~popular church saying.
I’ve never been comfortable with direction from the pulpit instructing people in the congregation to “repeat after me”. Maybe I’m a little rebellious, but it always seemed disingenuous to appropriate someone else’s sentiment for my own.
And I think there is danger in adopting pet phrases to explain God (as if He can be explained) and creating shorthand for concepts that require so much more discussion to even begin to understand.
Read the rest here: Goodness of God
I love, love, love when people leave comments on the blog!
Even though I wish we had come together over a common happy experience, I’m still thankful we have come together.
And I normally try hard to “like” and answer every comment in a timely way.
But this spring has been a real roller coaster ride and I’ve fallen dreadfully behind.
Please forgive me.
I’m trying to keep up, but no matter how fast I pedal, I’m not quite able to make the miles I hope to make each day.
I appreciate every single heart that chooses to engage, chooses to encourage, chooses to turn back and hold out a hand to the next struggling soul behind them.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
I love you all. ❤
One of the blessings (although I didn’t realize it at the time) of the early days of this journey was the immediacy of my response to triggers.
Something would upset me and I would react right away.
Nearly five years in and I’ve developed such excellent coping skills that I am rarely caught off guard, cry in public or respond dramatically regardless of what happens.
So this past couple weeks of on again/off again stress has been met, for the most part, with a calm demeanor and a “can do” attitude.
But it caught up to me last night.
All the pent-up, piled-up stress and grief poured out of my heart and dripped down my face.
I had a good, old-fashioned meltdown.
Smack dab in the middle of overwhelming thankfulness that my grandson is doing well, my heart reminded me that Dominic is not here the enjoy it. I remembered that Ryker will grow up and never see Dom’s amazing dexterity on the drums or hear his witty remarks or be caught up in his powerful hands and held overhead until he squeals to be released.
And I realized once again that while I love, love, love the blessings God sends my way, there’s no cosmic scale where those blessings eventually counter-balance the desperate longing I have for my son.
I have so appreciated the messages from other bereaved parents who “get it”. They know that I am absolutely overjoyed my son and his wife are spared the horror of child loss. But they also know that my mama heart still yearns for my own son even while rejoicing in the birth of theirs.
I’ll be OK.
A few tears, a quiet evening, reflection on truth and my heart will manage to find a way.
I think if we are absolutely honest, most of us would admit we have few relationships that operate without some kind of script.
We are friends with someone because we like the same hobbies or spend time together at a job or ball park or church.
We fall in love with someone because they “complete” us and offer companionship, emotional support and stability.
When the script fails (for whatever reason) we tend to pull away from those relationships.
But if I choose to enter into the suffering of another, I must do so without a script and commit to the long haul.
I must follow his or her lead, allow him or her to guide my response and refuse to impose my preferences on that hurting heart.
I’m there to hold a hand and help a heart hold onto hope.
This came up in a bereaved parents’ support group and I thought it was a great question: “When you meet someone for the first time, do you tell them about your missing child?”
It’s one of those practical life skills bereaved parents have to figure out.
I remember when it dawned on me a few months after Dominic left us that I would meet people who wouldn’t know he was part of my story unless I told them.
It was a devastating thought.
I had no idea how I would face the first time it happened.
Read the rest here: It’s Been YEARS, When Should I Mention My Missing Child?
I’m approaching five years since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven and I’m pretty sure that most folks think I don’t cry anymore.
I don’t blame them really-I haven’t broken down in public in more than a year.
But I’ve still spent plenty of nights softly sobbing myself to sleep.
And when no one is looking, no one is listening and no one is close enough to notice, more than one tear has slid down my cheek during daylight.
I am no more reconciled to this life I didn’t choose than I was five years ago.
I know I cannot change it.
I endure it.
But I hate it.