Who To Talk To....????

One thing about grief, like cancer, it is unpredictable and unprecedented, and unique to each individual. It rages and grips and holds on until you think you surely have an illness, a diagnosis yourself, amnesia, paralysis, or even temporary memory and hearing loss. It rips apart any semblance of organization or way of life that existed before. It tears at every heart string and pulls until the pain pierces through one's bones and tissues and soul. It makes you want to scream, or cry, or yell, or fall to the floor, sleep the day away, ease from it's tight grip. It makes you sad. And like many days of my life in the last three and a half years, today I wanted to call someone, anyone, and talk it out, cry about it, ask the questions that have no answers. I wanted to share the journey, the loss of Michael, now compounding even more the loss of my own daughter, bringing back the flood of memories that I thought had been dealt with and shelved for a bit. I wanted to tell someone about his last words to me, his last moments with his family around him, the laying of hands prayer and the ushering we did as we each kissed him and encouraged him to let go and rest. I wanted to tell someone everything! And as I have felt before, I didn't know who to talk to or with...

I have so many supportive, loving, empathetic, wonderful family and friends. That has been a gift along this path. Any one of them would take the time to listen. But I can't call them, and one by one, as I listed the names in my head, starting with my own sister, husband, daughter, I knew there is no one to call. Each have their own life, burden or celebration occurring in their own life. Or they are at work. Or they are on vacation. Or they are not able to listen right now. And the truth is, I am not really able to talk right now. I talk myself out of talking. It is exhausting. This is fresh grief, all over again. I need time. My sister surely needs time. My nephews do, and everyone who knows and grieves for Michael, needs time, too. That is why this is a lonely phase. It is what I have referred to as the "awkward dance" stage. Although, truth be known, my life feels like an "awkward dance" most of the time. I don't even think I had begun to get my bearings, and now, again, here we are, shattered and uncertain. Everyone is in a state of fuzziness, trying to make sense of this, if there is any sense to be made.

Who to talk to??? Who can make this better??? We know the answer to this, and that is simply no one on this side of heaven. Even those who have loved and lost before, can only bring those moments of comfort and ease. It is surely wonderful to relate to those who have gone before us, draw our strength from the courage, determination, dignity, and grace of others. But surely we know that it is only God above who can help us find our way. Our true source of light and love is right there. And when there is no one we can call upon, He is there. He is there in the form of the Book of Ecclesiastes that Karen and I are both reading through. He is there in the night. He is there in the morning. And He is never tired of the call. I work to figure out what He wants from me, why does this loss have to impact and change me once again, when I didn't even know who I was before? Why does my sister have to come home to an empty house each night, after nearly 31 years, and why does she have to get to know herself now? Why does she have to suffer this way? And why does she have to be alone, now, just when she and Michael were "supposed" to be heading into the twilight years? Why did our gathering of eight become six so quickly and how will we adjust? What am I supposed to learn from this and what is my calling?

Who knows the answers, but God above. Who knows the truth and intentions of my grieving heart, but God above. And who has a plan for me, even though I do not know it, but God above. I can call so many people today, but the truth is, I am weary and exhausted and don't know what to say. I am loved and love so many, but the truth is I don't have the energy to do what is needed, not today. Maybe tomorrow. For now, I am thankful God hears me and guides me and answers the call, even when I don't know how to find the words.