|Gary speaking at recent celebration.|
THE LULU CHRONICLES
I write this on Monday, the day after my family and I scattered the ashes of our beloved father, grandfather and husband. I suppose you could say this is Day One. It’s the first Monday after the death of Gary and I’m lost, numb and tired—oh, so tired. For five days, my grown children and I have existed in this Neverland of life after a death and let me tell you, it’s a relentless place. We have been sleepwalking through a world we never wanted to discover. A world of funeral decisions and obituaries. A bizarre world where you have to make a choice about urns and morticians—a place of sympathy cards and sad faces.
The Memorial has taken place and now I assume I’m to start my new life… the after-life of what was my life. But, how does one do that? How do you start again when you feel you have been drained of all blood, bone and skin? How do you make yourself put one foot in front of the other when you can’t even feel your feet? My entire body feels like a foreign country to me. I have to re-learn how to breathe and walk and talk. I have to remind myself to sit down. I find myself walking into rooms in my own house and not knowing where I am. How long will I linger in this awful, awkward emotional land? How do you begin again when you want nothing more than to stop breathing and follow your Loved One to where he has gone off to?
“Holy Father, I long… I so long to sleep and then wake to find that the last five days were just a dream. I long to intertwine my fingers with his. I long to hear his voice. I long… I long for my memories to not have sharp edges.”
What I must keep before me is that I am not alone. I have never been alone. Holy arms hold me up. My God weeps with me all the while embracing my dearest who is no longer here. I don’t understand how that can be, but I believe it with my whole heart.
Day One. It’s just about over. I’ll never have to experience it again. But, Day Two is coming …
“Holy God, take my hand…”