Wednesday, November 6, 2013

I will be sad no more…




The Hubs on our couch.


THE LULU CHRONICLES
I’ve been missing in action again. It grows increasingly harder to write these posts. What started out as a fun little blog about a pink bike and me has turned into something else entirely. Oh, LuLu is standing by like a faithful friend. She’s ready when I am, but unfortunately, I’ve been missing there as well. Grief and Sadness are a tag team. They’ve been doing their little act since Adam and Eve were banished from the Garden of Eden. They know how to get the job done and they are perfecting it on me.
Nothing in my life is the same. It’s like someone rearranged my furniture during the night and has hidden my glasses. The floor in my house is like walking on hot coals. The couch is like sitting on barbwire. Gary’s empty recliner seems to have a flashing blue light on it reminding me every second of the day who is not here—as if I needed a reminder.
And then there is our bedroom. Our bed. Our dresser. Our closet. Our lamp. Our rug. Every time I enter this room I feel like I’ve walked into an alternate universe, a bazarro world where everything that once was a testament of a marriage, a partnership, a great love, has turned into a place of torment.
I see why they tell you not to make any big decisions for a year after a loved one’s death. You can’t trust yourself. I’ve been tempted to burn this place down a dozen times. I’ve wanted to move, to run from everything that reminded me of my life before; To rip pictures off the wall, to sanitize and erase all traces of what I’ve lost.
Grief and Sadness smile and taunt me. They dare me to do it.
But… there’s something else. SomeOne else that speaks louder, who has the power to push my tormentors aside like they were mere mosquitoes. His voice is soft, yet unwavering.  His Presence anchors the room and gives reprieve. His Spirit works on me from the inside out. He pulls the dark veil aside for a brief moment to reveal the loveliness I’m temporarily too blind to see. From the couch to the bed to the curtains to the porch to the recliner all will eventually bring comfort. Grief and Sadness are necessary evils. While they distort, they also heal. They’re like really awful tasting medicine that must be endured if one wants to get well.
So, I will mourn until I can mourn no more. I will weep until the tears are no longer needed. I will live in this house and will not allow Grief and Sadness to fool me into doing something rash and crazy. I will wake and make the bed like I’ve done for the last forty-two years and someday, someday, someday, I will be sad no more.
deb


6 comments:

listening said...

Dear Deb, I know nothing of this type of grief. What I do know is that your heart has been made perfect by God's love and this grief process will distill your love and loss together somehow. Your story is heart breaking and heart lifting all at once - I recognize God's face in all of it. My prayer is that in some moment of each day there is a sense of the peace of God, and that that moment will carry you through til the next moment. The Lord has you in a big bear hug- and won't let you go-

Matthew Cleveland said...

I love you mom! I look forward to every one of your words.

lkh said...

Deb,
I love you, and continue to lift you and your family up to our Father in prayer.
Laura

Stuart Loe said...

Beautiful, heart wrenching post. Thanks for sharing.

Stuart Loe said...

Beautiful, heart wrenching post. Thanks for sharing.

Cathy Messecar said...

Sad and Pain may as well be spelled the same. I'm sorry that you are making this unwanted journey. Praying for you Deb.