If I could choose what today would be, it would look like this:
Getting my granddaughter ready for her first day of preschool.
Leaving early enough to go pick up her Daddy, my son, from his work site, so that he could
walk his daughter to her first day of school.
Taking pictures of the historic event; seeing the pride on my son's face.
But I don't get to choose. Death has left me with "settling for", not choosing.
And so I got my granddaughter ready for preschool.
We left in time to get to preschool and have some time for taking a picture -- of her only -- and finding her hook on which to hang her bag and for saying goodbye.
I cried some this morning, when my granddaughter was occupied. The ache in my heart stung deeply as I missed my son, and missed him missing this.........and missed my granddaughter having her Daddy around on such a special day.
And so in a half hour when I pick her up, I will give her the special gift I bought for her first day
of school and I will ask how her day was. I will keep any pictures she made, instead of giving them to my son.
I can't have what I want, but I will choose joy in the midst of the pain. Oh how I wish he could see his little girl today.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Sunday, August 26, 2007
"It’s the neverness that is so painful. Never again to be here with us – never to sit with us at the table, never to travel with us, never to laugh with us, never to cry with us, never to embrace us as he leaves for school, never to see his brothers & sisters marry.
All the rest of our lives we must live with out him. Only our death can stop the pain of his death. A month, a year, five years – with that I could live. But not this forever.
I step outdoors into the moist moldy fragrance of an early summer morning and arm in arm with my enjoyment comes the realization that never again will he smell this.
As a cloud vanishes and is gone,
So he who goes down to the grave does not return,
He will never come to his house again;
his place will know him no more. Job 7:9-10
One small misstep and now this endless neverness."
From Lament For A Son by Nicholas
Wolterstorff
This is becoming one of my favorite books. I read just a page at a time, pondering the thoughts
of this grieving father, feeling his feelings and his pain. I wish I could put things into words like he does. But I can't, so it helps to read what others have written.
Why are some days, some weeks, harder than others? I honestly don't know. I just know that
this past week has been terribly painful, the pain acute as Paul's face flashes across my mind so often. I have been so depressed.............but it is "grief depression", as I like to call it; just something that must be gone through.
I am so tired of grief, but don't see an end in sight. Because Paul will NEVER come back through the door again, never call me on the phone, never text message me, never drive up in his truck, never clomp through the house, never laugh at a silly joke, never make some awful concoction in the kitchen, never play with his daughter, never be there for his sister, never help his father paint, never, never, never................................
All the rest of our lives we must live with out him. Only our death can stop the pain of his death. A month, a year, five years – with that I could live. But not this forever.
I step outdoors into the moist moldy fragrance of an early summer morning and arm in arm with my enjoyment comes the realization that never again will he smell this.
As a cloud vanishes and is gone,
So he who goes down to the grave does not return,
He will never come to his house again;
his place will know him no more. Job 7:9-10
One small misstep and now this endless neverness."
From Lament For A Son by Nicholas
Wolterstorff
This is becoming one of my favorite books. I read just a page at a time, pondering the thoughts
of this grieving father, feeling his feelings and his pain. I wish I could put things into words like he does. But I can't, so it helps to read what others have written.
Why are some days, some weeks, harder than others? I honestly don't know. I just know that
this past week has been terribly painful, the pain acute as Paul's face flashes across my mind so often. I have been so depressed.............but it is "grief depression", as I like to call it; just something that must be gone through.
I am so tired of grief, but don't see an end in sight. Because Paul will NEVER come back through the door again, never call me on the phone, never text message me, never drive up in his truck, never clomp through the house, never laugh at a silly joke, never make some awful concoction in the kitchen, never play with his daughter, never be there for his sister, never help his father paint, never, never, never................................
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Never Will Get Over It
Below is a devotional from griefshare.org that I related to. It is hard to explain that no matter how happy I am at any particular time, I always carry the pain and grief with me, and often I am feeling it while talking to you and smiling.......................
It's been only 20 months -- I'm sure a lot of people think I should be much better by now. And I am to some extent, but mainly I just don't talk about it because I don't think people want to hear it. I am not doing so well most days................
Today a rock song came on the radio and my heart seized in the familiar gut-wrenching pain as Paul's face flashed through my mind -- smiling, serious as he played his guitar, goofy, angry........just his face and expressions one after the other. And I missed him so much I felt as if I couldn't breathe.But I kept driving the car as tears ran down my face. Shopped at Wal-Mart, no one knew the pain pounding inside.
So, here's the devotional, here's something to learn about those who grieve............
Grief Lasts Longer Than ExpectedDay 4
Grief's unexpected turns will throw you again and again. You may feel that for every step forward, you take at least one step back. The grieving process generally takes longer than you ever imagined.Please don't rush this process. Remember, what you are feeling is not only normal; it is necessary.
"It's been seven years, and I'm still going through it," says Dr. Larry Crabb, whose brother died in a plane crash. "I don't know if it's a very holy thing to admit, but when someone says, 'Well, it's been a week, a month, a year—Larry, for you it's been seven years. Get a grip. Where's your faith in Christ, for goodness' sake?' I get really angry.
"Knowing the Lord and His comfort does not take away the ache; instead, it supports you in the middle of the ache. Until I get home to heaven, there's going to be an ache that won't quit. The grieving process for me is not so much a matter of getting rid of the pain, but not being controlled by the pain."
We read in the Psalms that David grew weary with the process of grief and cried out to the Lord. Then he left the timing in God's hands.
"Be merciful to me, LORD, for I am faint; O LORD, heal me, for my bones are in agony. My soul is in anguish. How long, O LORD, how long? Turn, O LORD, and deliver me; save me because of your unfailing love" (Psalm 6:2-4).
"I am weary with my sighing; Every night I make my bed swim, I dissolve my couch with my tears. My eye has wasted away with grief" (Psalm 6:6-7 NASB).
Heavenly God, I cannot even begin to put my grief in a time frame. Thank you that I don't have to. Comfort me and support me as I lean on You. Amen.
It's been only 20 months -- I'm sure a lot of people think I should be much better by now. And I am to some extent, but mainly I just don't talk about it because I don't think people want to hear it. I am not doing so well most days................
Today a rock song came on the radio and my heart seized in the familiar gut-wrenching pain as Paul's face flashed through my mind -- smiling, serious as he played his guitar, goofy, angry........just his face and expressions one after the other. And I missed him so much I felt as if I couldn't breathe.But I kept driving the car as tears ran down my face. Shopped at Wal-Mart, no one knew the pain pounding inside.
So, here's the devotional, here's something to learn about those who grieve............
Grief Lasts Longer Than ExpectedDay 4
Grief's unexpected turns will throw you again and again. You may feel that for every step forward, you take at least one step back. The grieving process generally takes longer than you ever imagined.Please don't rush this process. Remember, what you are feeling is not only normal; it is necessary.
"It's been seven years, and I'm still going through it," says Dr. Larry Crabb, whose brother died in a plane crash. "I don't know if it's a very holy thing to admit, but when someone says, 'Well, it's been a week, a month, a year—Larry, for you it's been seven years. Get a grip. Where's your faith in Christ, for goodness' sake?' I get really angry.
"Knowing the Lord and His comfort does not take away the ache; instead, it supports you in the middle of the ache. Until I get home to heaven, there's going to be an ache that won't quit. The grieving process for me is not so much a matter of getting rid of the pain, but not being controlled by the pain."
We read in the Psalms that David grew weary with the process of grief and cried out to the Lord. Then he left the timing in God's hands.
"Be merciful to me, LORD, for I am faint; O LORD, heal me, for my bones are in agony. My soul is in anguish. How long, O LORD, how long? Turn, O LORD, and deliver me; save me because of your unfailing love" (Psalm 6:2-4).
"I am weary with my sighing; Every night I make my bed swim, I dissolve my couch with my tears. My eye has wasted away with grief" (Psalm 6:6-7 NASB).
Heavenly God, I cannot even begin to put my grief in a time frame. Thank you that I don't have to. Comfort me and support me as I lean on You. Amen.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Completing Paul's Tasks
"If I should die and leave you here awhile,
Be not like others, sore undone, who keep
Long vigils by the silent dust and weep.
For my sake turn again to life and smile,
Nerving thy heart and trembling hand to do
Something to comfort weaker hearts than thine.
Complete these dear unfinished tasks of mine,
And I, perchance, may therein comfort you!"
A. Price Hughes
And so, I carry on, raising my son's daughter. That is the biggest of his unfinished tasks. But I also reach out to his friends; and in keeping with Paul's tradition of being a wonderful friend, I am sending cards and talking to those who are also grieving the loss of a child, seeking to be there for them, as Paul was always there for his friends.
Be not like others, sore undone, who keep
Long vigils by the silent dust and weep.
For my sake turn again to life and smile,
Nerving thy heart and trembling hand to do
Something to comfort weaker hearts than thine.
Complete these dear unfinished tasks of mine,
And I, perchance, may therein comfort you!"
A. Price Hughes
And so, I carry on, raising my son's daughter. That is the biggest of his unfinished tasks. But I also reach out to his friends; and in keeping with Paul's tradition of being a wonderful friend, I am sending cards and talking to those who are also grieving the loss of a child, seeking to be there for them, as Paul was always there for his friends.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Triggers and half her life
I need a place to vent my grief thoughts and maybe, hopefully, be an encouragement to others who are grieving. If this seems to work, I'll go backwards and tell my story.
But for now, 20 months after the murder of my 19 year old son, what is on my mind are TRIGGERS. I think of him every day, but as time goes by, it seems the memories are the same ones. His pictures never change, nothing is new, he is gone.
I find myself hating it when I lose a "memory trigger". The store I took him to buy his new guitar has been made into something else. Streets are rerouted as the city grows, or buildings are torn down to make room for growth -- buildings that hold memories of times with my son.
So it's hard to change things in the house. It took me a long time to take down the gate guarding the TV, etc., from my granddaughter (HIS daughter, who we are now raising) because HE rigged it up to fit the area, very ingeniously so that she could not thwart it.
I cried when I took it down, remembering his pride, marveling at his ingenuity, cursing the loss of another memory trigger.
I did save a bit of cord he'd used, so that now when I open the "junk drawer" I see the cord and think of the gate and his cleverness.
The other thing on my mind is that this Friday will be 20 months since my precious son died. His daughter was 20 months old when he was killed, so she has now lived half her life with her Dad and half her life without her Dad.
I ache, I mourn such a senseless loss.
But for now, 20 months after the murder of my 19 year old son, what is on my mind are TRIGGERS. I think of him every day, but as time goes by, it seems the memories are the same ones. His pictures never change, nothing is new, he is gone.
I find myself hating it when I lose a "memory trigger". The store I took him to buy his new guitar has been made into something else. Streets are rerouted as the city grows, or buildings are torn down to make room for growth -- buildings that hold memories of times with my son.
So it's hard to change things in the house. It took me a long time to take down the gate guarding the TV, etc., from my granddaughter (HIS daughter, who we are now raising) because HE rigged it up to fit the area, very ingeniously so that she could not thwart it.
I cried when I took it down, remembering his pride, marveling at his ingenuity, cursing the loss of another memory trigger.
I did save a bit of cord he'd used, so that now when I open the "junk drawer" I see the cord and think of the gate and his cleverness.
The other thing on my mind is that this Friday will be 20 months since my precious son died. His daughter was 20 months old when he was killed, so she has now lived half her life with her Dad and half her life without her Dad.
I ache, I mourn such a senseless loss.
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