Grief Six: a Step Back

 

Your word is a lamp to my feet...

                        Psalm 119 

 Check up today:

Prayers — going well

Remembering God's presence—yes 

Daily Bible—fair

Sleep—moderately good

Depression—still there but mild

Energy—meh

Motivation—none (see below)

Walking—going well

Writing—up and down

Hip stretching—er...not so good

Reading—lots

Video Games—had to cut back

House keeping—not terrible

Not much else to report. File the rest under "Be kind to yourself." 

There will be no vegetable garden this year. Hired someone to help clean up flower beds. Plan to do some planting. I would like to do a Swedish Death Cleanse and get rid of half my belongings, but perhaps not this year. The basement files are begging for attention. Some things boxed for church rummage sale. Thinking about jumping in the car and going to visit Pam in Columbus. May do it.

Stay with me Lord for I am small and alone and there is darkness.

Grief 5: Peace

 As soon as I lie down, I fall peacefully asleep, for you alone, O LORD, bring security to my dwelling.

Psalm 4 

 

 

 

 

 

Perhaps it is the glorious sunshine, or the warmth in the air. Perhaps it is my beautiful daffodils—or the music of Easter—but today is a joyful one. OR maybe the privilege of being a Eucharistic minister today.

My last counseling session was simple and good. I think I've come to terms with the nature of grief.  It isn't collapsing in pain or uncontrollable tears. There is some sadness, yes, but not a debilitating amount. Regret? Not over my marriage, but I'm letting go of some over parenthood.

 

My grief is more general malaise and weariness as I adjust to new realities and expectations. It is an inability to imagine the future, which is undoubtedly a good thing. It is work, but it is manageable and it will pass. For now—one day at a time, one step at a time.

 

And I'm remembering His "word is a lamp unto my feet."

Grief 4: Life and Death

 

We had a glorious Easter—Alleluias, soaring music, sunshine, flowers, and warmth. I was reminded, though, that in order to have Easter, you must have Good Friday first. As CS Lewis famously said, "The pain I feel now is the happiness I had before. That is the deal."

My readers are probably aware this has been a difficult year. You may not know I lost both one of my daughters and my Beloved of 54 years in a space of three weeks at the beginning of the year. It is a lot to swallow. It will take a good long year of mourning before I can approach normal, if then.

This weekend I discovered the concept of "widow brain," a state that includes brain fog and fatigue. there is a growing body of science about the impact of loss on brain function. My whole brain is building new pathways and struggling with old ones. It explained a lot. Every thing I do from the time I get up until i go to bed (and especially then) is new and different. Expected stimuli are missing, new ones forming. No wonder I'm exhausted.

I continue to write daily, or try at least. This week I'm flying off to visit family. They live at an airport in a condo facing a pond visited by migrating birds. It will be a good break. This morning, I have to pack. And write. But first, coffee!

(This was originally posted on Caroline Warfield's blog. Caroline is Carol's pseudonym for novel writing.)