Thursday, December 5, 2013

Grief is hard

Grief is hard. 

It sneaks up on you when you least expect it, overwhelming you and threatening to bring all else to a standstill.  The things that bring grief to the surface are not always what you'd expect, and some things that you'd think would spark an outpouring leave you nothing but numb.

In the past two months, things that have brought me to me knees with grief have been as varied as the stars, my cell phone, hearing a certain person singing, folding laundry, and discussing Christmas decorations and traditions.  Over Thanksgiving, I started sobbing while folding laundry because it reminded me of my mom laughing every year because her mother always sent her (and Mom's siblings) underwear.  Mom used to laugh and joke about it, because she was over 50 and still getting socks and underwear from her mother.  I was a wreck because I was folding underwear, but Mom wouldn't ever do that again. 

I never know when the grief will strike.

The holiday season is really difficult for me this year.  My in-laws were here for Thanksgiving, and I tried so hard to get into the spirit, since it was always my favorite holiday. But I think I wasn't that great of a host, between work, migraines, and grief.  It just wasn't the same.

I haven't got into the Christmas spirit at all. It just hurts.  Looking at everyone's decorations reminds me of Mom's decorations.  Looking at Christmas lights in the neighborhoods brings back memories of all the years driving around on Christmas Eve because Mom loved it so.

I'm going to be alone for a week right after Christmas, and I'm not looking forward to it. Time alone is time that I normally would have been on the phone talking to Mom. I don't do well alone these days.

I know Mom is perfect and happy. But it hurts so much to have lost my mother and my best friend.

As I said, grief is hard.

1 comment:

Kelly said...

Oh dear Rachel. I can see how the grief would be in the little things. I can only imagine that everything would remind you of your mom.

I forgot she had a cavalier. What a kind gesture for your Dad to give your Aunt the dog.

Thank you for sharing that sweet funny story of your grandmother sending your adult mom underwear. You are honoring her by sharing that story. And I appreciate hearing it. I understand it is an example of something that brings grief in the everyday details.

I can only imagine how difficult facing the holidays would be. My heart hurts for you.

Allow yourself to be how you need to be. It is okay not to do it the way it was because it isn't what it was.

I wish you didn't have to be alone the week after Christmas. I can only imagine how her absence would feel more acute when she is the one you would go to when you have grief like this. I wish I could hug you my friend.

You have my phone number and I am happy to be here to text or chat. When you are alone after Christmas and need/want to talk, I am here. I know how being alone can intensify depression and grief.

I will continue to pray that God's Spirit guide you through this incredibly difficult path of grief.

Know you are dearly loved, my friend.