Continue The Climb

Today, I pledge to continue the climb. Climbing to where or what, I do not know, but climbing is what it feels like. Climbing the mountain of grief. Climbing out of bed. Climbing past myself and my emotions. Climbing out from underneath the reminders, the memories, the remembrances, the flashbacks. Simply, climbing.

With the holidays all but a memory now, I continue to praise God for that "last" Christmas, when Allison could have been gone, but was not. I thank Him for the blessing of knowing her for 21 years. I thank Him for taking her quickly, eleven weeks, and for keeping her suffering to somewhat of a minimum. I ask Him for daily help and assistance to live on, live strong, and live honorably, without her. I thank Him for the gift of family over this Christmas, for sustaining us with love, knowing that is all we need. For the resources, for the ability to live another day, for carrying me through the day to day life since she left. And for giving me the ability to continue the climb.

I needed such strength today, just to climb out of bed. Fatigue and exhaustion have taken over, and not just from weeks of preparations and holiday cooking. It's called grief. And it's knowing in my soul what this day represents...her last week, the words, "no cure", "no treatment", "no options". My dear God, how does one endure? But she did, we did, and we do. We continue the climb.

I hold on to the image of where Allie is now, in a place that knows no new year, no January 2nd, and no January 9th. A heaven and a God that holds no timeframe at all. So why should I, why should we? Our hearts and souls tell a story that is physical, emotional, psychological, spiritual, and mental. And it takes work to continue the climb. I don't want to forget, yet, I do. I don't want to GO THERE! There is no need. So, instead, I work like I have never worked at anything, work to continue, move, savor, be in the moment, not the ones four years ago today and this week. But right now. When I falter, and I do, I look up and I ask for God's good grace and tender kindness. I cannot change the fact that she is gone. I can only respond and change how I cope.

Still, the climb is breathtaking and painstaking and monumental. Grief barely settles in from the holidays, and then it is her last days, week, breath. She climbed the biggest hurdles and left me to continue the climb...I will, I do, I must.

I look at four years and wonder many things...how did I get here? How will I go on like this? When is it easier? When do I FEEL something different? And I realize that to my multitude of questions, there are no easy answers. Climb I must, and climb, I will.

A quote this week on The Compassionate Friends facebook page really hit home..."The passage of time does not cause our grief to end, but it's softening touch helps us to survive"...by Wayne Loder.

Grief has not ended, but perhaps its softening touch, and God's gentle hand, has helped me to survive. Only time will tell how long I have to live in this world, but I do know, each day I spend, I will take my cues from both daughters and a family who loves me, and I will continue the climb.