Rambling and Random Thoughts

“You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved.  But this is also the good news.  They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up.  And you come through.  It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly – that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp. – Anne Lamott

 

As anyone who has grieved a significant loss knows, some days are better than others.  On the “bad” days it is hard to understand that one day the pain will not be as strong as it is now.  On the “good” days, there is hope that one day the pain will not be as strong as it is now. 

It is hard being alone, missing the adult companionship and camaraderie.  It is missing the physical touch and intimacy of a spouse – the touch of a hand touching yours, a simple hug, an arm around the shoulder – the simple touch that conveys a deep level of love and commitment.  The emptiness in the house without Scott’s presence just echoes at times. 

 

“When one person is missing, the whole world seems empty.”  --- Pat Schweibert, Tear Soup:  A Recipe for Healing After Loss

 

It is difficult tucking a child into bed, who clings to you, afraid that you will leave too.  It challenges me daily to try to stay in tune with where Jaelyn is emotionally in facing her own grief.  In thinking about what helps me with my grief, I have to weigh how it will affect Jaelyn as she grieves differently than me – am I pushing her too fast to face things that we have always done with Scott or is this the best for her too?  How do I keep her from being too clingy, yet help her to understand that I am here?  I can’t promise her I will never leave her as I don’t know God’s plans for the future.  There are days that I feel like I have a hard enough time navigating grief for myself, much less helping Jaelyn to navigate it too.

My heart is just crying tonight for Scott.  I miss him so much.  Every time I play back the voicemails on my cell phone, after the current messages ends the saved messages start to play.  The first saved message is a voicemail from Scott after he called 911 and was waiting for the ambulance just a few minutes before his death.  I cannot listen to that message right now as just the sound of his voice makes me cry.  Maybe one day I will be able to listen to that message without crying, but knowing those are his last words to me make them difficult to listen to right now. 

 

“The depth of the feeling continued to surprise me and threaten me, but each time it hit again and I bore it. . . I would discover that it hadn’t washed me away.”  --Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies:  Some Thoughts on Faith

 

I find myself drawn to searching for quotes and books that say exactly how I am feeling.  I think it is a search to find a way to express it as well as a sense that someone else has been there before and understands the journey and the pain.  There is such a sense of community in sharing a grief journey, a sense of feeling understood and not alone.  I have been enjoying notes, letters, and emails that friends and family have shared of stories of their experiences with Scott.  I feel as if I am getting to know sides of Scott that I didn’t know, from the years before we knew each other, or in environments like work where our lives didn’t overlap, or shared memories of which I was a part.  It is always uplifting to hear the stories and hear other perspectives on Scott’s life.  It is always good to hear how highly Scott’s friends and family regarded him and his influence on their lives. 

 

“What they never tell you about grief is that missing someone is the simplest part.” – Gail Caldwell, Let’s Take the Long Way Home:  A Memoir of Friendship