We've had a lot of life changes in the last 6 months, in the last year, really. I honestly don't know how it's been a whole year. My daddy died...a year and 6 days ago. I've lost track of time since then. In some ways it feels like it was just yesterday. In others, it seems like a lifetime ago. And yet, some days, I have to convince myself he's really gone. I still catch myself preparing to call or text him to share part of my day. I no longer physically reach for the phone, but my mind still starts to think of it.
Grief is a strange thing. You can hear about it, learn about it, read all you can to fully understand how it works. But when it's you, when it's your grief, it's different. It's never what they say it will be. Sure, it follows a basic pattern that experts have dubbed the "cycle of grief", but only in its basic form. And, at least for me, there's not just one trip around that cycle. For me, I believe I've been around it at least 3 times in the last year. And I don't see it stopping anytime soon. I think of it as a grief bicycle. I keep going and going and going.
Don't get me wrong, overall, it's getting easier...overall, I cry less often...overall, it doesn't sting as frequently...overall, I'm finding a new normal and moving on. But there are days...horrible, gut-wrenching days when I don't even want to get out of bed, I don't want to face this reality, I don't want it to be real. There are days when everything is going smoothly and out of nowhere I'm blindsided by wave after wave of grief for absolutely no reason. There are days when it's all I can do to hold it together, to force myself to keep moving, so as not to freak out my kids with the meltdown I feel just beneath the surface.
But there are other days too. Days when I can see something that reminds me of my childhood, of a story my Daddy once told me, of something we once did together...and I can smile. I can be in the moment and think to myself, "Daddy would love seeing this" or "Dad would crack up laughing right now", and truly, thoroughly, bask in the moment, and be happy. There are times when I watch my kids, when I listen to them, and my heart is so happy because I KNOW how proud their Papa would be if he could see them in that moment. And most days, when those moments come, I'm able to tell them just that--and not break down.
We've had a lot of changes in the past year, but especially in the past 6 months. Due to a job promotion, we moved from Oklahoma to South Texas only 6 weeks after finding out. It was also the middle of the school year, so we had a house to sell, new schools to look into, temporary housing to locate in a city we knew nothing about. We had to leave our church home and all of our dear friends, and move to a place where we only knew people Sean worked with. We are now 12 hours or more from our nearest family, except for one aunt and uncle. We finally found a new home after 4 months of being in an apartment, so we've spent the last 2 months moving and getting settled, as well as updating all of our adoption paperwork after the move. And after 5 months, we've finally managed to find a new church home.
We are beginning to find our new normal. We are starting to settle in. And now, as things are finally starting to slow down after this year of changes, I'm finally being forced to deal with all of the emotions that I've crammed down deep inside. I'm finally having to face reality, to go through day to day life with some time to myself once again. And I'm realizing how much of the emotion and grief I've suppressed. It's easy to ignore when your life is chaotic and busy. But once you slow down, when you find time to breathe, it all comes back to the surface and you're forced to deal with it head-on.
So we are working our way to normalcy...or some form of it. I must say, I don't write all of this for you to feel bad for me. I am hurt, I am changed, but I will be fine. And I am truly, utterly blessed. This move has been so good for us in so many ways and it's already beginning to feel like home. And I know one day, the pain won't be as strong, the waves of grief won't wash over me as frequently or with the same intensity. This is my struggle, my issue, and so many others have so much more to deal with than I can even begin to imagine. So please don't feel bad for me.
My purpose in sharing is just to shed light. To show anyone reading this that this is what grief looks like for me. And hopefully, to help someone understand that everyone's grief is different. And everyone's grief is their own--it's a journey only they can take. No one else needs to understand it; no one truly can. There is no right or wrong and as much as psychologists study, they will still never pinpoint exactly what you should feel and when. So if you're struggling today, if you've lost someone, if you're going through a difficult time, please know that what you're feeling is OK. Take as much time as you need to get through it to the other side.
Above all, know that as I walk through this new phase of life and it's unique-to-me challenges, I am praying for you...for all of you that struggle today as I do. I may not know your name, but I know the God who does. So I ask Him to comfort you, to heal you, to give you peace, to bring you to the other side of this struggle stronger than you were before, and closer to Him than you've ever been.
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