Wednesday, March 6, 2019

This Day Last Year

This whole blog has been about writing as a form of therapy.  Somehow, I found that I had an excess of words and thoughts that I needed to put forth.  I always feel the need to be honest.  To this end, I will write about the thoughts that I have been having leading up to this day.  Last week was when I felt really bad.  I knew this day was coming.  But like many things in this year, anticipation of a thing has been worse than the actual thing.  I'll give you an example.  I thought Thanksgiving and Christmas would be terrible so I stressed the days leading up to the holidays.  But thank God, there was peace.  There is peace today even though on the periphery, there is sadness.  I thought about keeping the children home from school but they didn't want to stay home the week that it happened.  They were only too happy to put on their bookbags and leave me with my thoughts. 

When Santi passed, I felt peace in the fact that he was in a better place.  There is no longer any need to fear what will be or when it will be, the worst thing happened.  I lost my person.  Even in my sadness, I am so happy for him and I know that I will see him again.  I know that my journey continues and I am happy to take up my responsibilities and raise my children.  I am HAPPY to do it. I am glad to be here for them.  They are happy that I am here still.  We are good.  It feels like falling and being able to stand and testing out your legs to find if there has been injury and discovering that not only is there no injury but that you are strong.  There is strength in being able to get back up and shake the dust off of your pants and shoulders.  There is strength in saying, "I fell but I got back up again."  That has to be the work of God in my life.  There is no other answer!!!

HOWEVER (Yes, note the capitals), I am missing the person that knew about my brand of crazy.  I am missing the person that saw the worst parts of me and loved me anyway.  I can be awkward and inappropriate and funny and not even know it.  So many times I would say or do something and he would laugh and laugh.  "Why are you laughing?"  I would ask him indignantly.  He would look at me with his beautiful shining eyes and tell me that I was funny.  "I didn't mean to be funny." I would tell him in my attitude-y way.  Wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes he would tell me I was cute. I still don't know if it was an insult when he would say I was incidentally funny.  I never had to explain what I meant with him.  He got me.  We spoke the same language.  This is a precious thing and I think this is what I miss the most.  Someone on your same page that you could just say whatever and it be okay. 

So I pray.  I talk with friends.  Praying is better.  I pour all my craziness out on God knowing that sometimes I'm not even making sense and He hears me.  He allows me sleep and peace and I am thankful.  I have friends that have come forth, unlikely people to ask how I am doing.  I know that they are with me for a reason, or a season, and maybe even a lifetime.  I am in debt for the gratitude that I have for them.  I don't want to impose on them or take advantage but sometimes I become too needy and it's not fair to impose on them.  This feeling of imposition is hard.  The pockets of loneliness that come out of nowhere and leave you with tears in the dollar store.  Who do I call?  In that moment, there is no one but God there when there was a person to call and tell me to get in the car and come home.  Home used to be where his arms would hold me and he didn't mind at all.  I could stay there all day if I needed to.  These are the difficult parts.  These are the parts that nobody tells you about.  I assume it's different for everyone.  I don't know.  I've only lost my husband once and it is so different than losing your parents. 

After the cramps of emotional pain end; after the restlessness that comes from fear of what will or will not be; after the pockets of loneliness and isolation that hit, there is truth that comes forth in knowing that I am never alone.  I have God with me not just standing with me but holding me and covering me.  I have knowledge that He is a good God with a good end plan.  And so... I go forth, smiling, with red lipstick (I just got a new one that I have to wear tomorrow. Fenty...) knowing more than emoting that I am more than a conqueror through Christ who strengthens me (Romans 8:31-39).

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