I don't remember much about losing Frank. And the body is probably designed that way for your own protection, self preservation, and well-being. ;o) What I do remember comes to me vividly and is triggered by odd random things. I remember sitting on the toilet (not using the toilet - just sitting there to have to avoid actually talking and interacting with people - basically wallowing in my sorrow) in my friend's house which she had so graciously offered to us while we were going through the depositions. There was a Reader's Digest on her bed stand that I had picked up and taken in the restroom. I flipped through it and stumbled upon an article about a woman whose husband was an Olympic athlete (I think I have this story right and someone who reads my blog - oh, wait does anyone read my blog besides me? - may know who this actually is) had lost her husband and months later her daughter to (I think) disease and accident. Okay, now that I am writing this - the details are sketchy. MAIN POINT being - she was suffering a lot. Her life was rocked like an earthquake - 10 on the scale. But, she came out on top. She took all her pain and used it for good to help other people. She became this amazing motivational speaker. It was really at the time an amazing read for me. I remember so vividly thinking - holy cow. There are people who go through 100 times worse than I am going through right now and guess what - they not only live they make the best of it. Buck up, baby. It was an epiphany. Not the last - just the first.
Last night I was flipping channels and stopped on the Catholic channel because I love it sometimes. Father Eddie was talking about justice. Of course I thought of mom. Justice was high in her book. It was a really good conversation about advent being for justice and treating your fellow man with humanity because that is what we are called to do. But one thing Father Eddie said struck me right in the head. He said, "Jerusalem, take off your robe of mourning and misery; put on the splendor of glory of God forever." Baruch 5:1. Now, that just happens to be for this Sunday's readings, and it thumped me on the forehead. But, then he said (like he could see me flopped on the couch) - and I am paraphrasing a little because I can't remember how he said it exactly, "Now, I've had a bad week. I have been crying and having a pity party for myself but then I went to BAMC and saw a guy whose leg was shot off in the war and a bunch of other soldiers who weren't doing so great. And I was lifted up." Hmm.
This could be the first epiphany for me.
4 comments:
Always some one worse off than me...so true. I hope each day gets a little easier and I am glad you are writing, can't wait to see what you have to say tomorrow.
In time I believe it will get better. I don't know the loss of a parent, but I know the loss of a child. So I know the numbness you feel, I know the ache you feel. All I did was sleep and I never wanted to wake. when I was up all I wanted was to sleep. I functioned and did the daily routine and some of it is blur. BUT it does get better. For me I feel everything happens for a reason. I truly believe that. So take it day by day, and let what happens happen. If you feel like crying, cry, if you feel happy be happy and don't feel guilty. Just take it as it comes and you will be fine in time. We aren't given anything we can't handle.
love ya!
I really, really like that "... take off your robe of mourning and misery; put on the splendor of glory ..." I love reading your writing, and I hope it's cathartic. It will get easier, day by day. Take baby steps, and allow yourself to feel whatever you feel at that moment.
yes, someone is always worse off than me. ;o) isn't that a nice quote? i really liked it and although i am sure i've heard it a gazillion times (being that i was going to church in the womb) i couldn't quite remember it. today i deleted everything i wrote, but yes, it is catharthic (spelled wrong?) and i love that word. thanks, missy for the kind, kind words. you are blessed.
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