There are people who've tried to encourage me since I lost Chad. I so love them. There are others (who I know love me), but, still, they are uncomfortable with the whole grief process. Sometimes I wonder about that term. It's like something is processed and there is a resulting product afterwards. That's not how grief is to me.
To me, it lingers. Mostly in the shadows of the day, or crevices of a particular experience.
Sometimes just talking about him brings in a rush of joy, heartache, or emptiness. Sometimes hearing his name called out to another person who owns it sends chills down my arms...it's like they've stolen something that belongs to me, yet I know that is not so.
But there are those who share my grief. They see a particular situation and realize that what they are experiencing as the normal course of living, is not something I can do any longer. My day of experiences are done. I only have memories. Normal can no more exist for me than typing could be for a person who loses their arm. No matter how proficient and effective one becomes with the use of one arm, the other is always missing. And it is more obvious to that person than to others. Grief is a personal thing. It's hard to share it with someone else with any confidence. Will another receive my thoughts, my emotions with the understanding, or will they simply nod and want to melt like rain into dry ground?
I suppose that is why I write about it over here. My safe space. I don't click on my facebook and twitter accounts to share it with the world. The world at large doesn't really care, I've found. Only the few who seek another's peace while in search of their own will stumble upon this blog through various links offered with other blogs I write. That is enough. God brings those who need another heart which connects with theirs--someone else who's walking in the valley of the shadow of death.
If you are here, I pray my thoughts can strike some chord of comfort within your heart and ease your pain somewhat. May God richly bless and keep you. selahV