Right now I’m in Survival Mode. Grief, it appears, is not done with me.
Sadness rolls over me relentlessly. Wrapping me in endless darkness.
I huddle into this cocoon. Not wanting to leave. There’s comfort in allowing the tears to flow. I allow the pain to squeeze until I want to scream. I dwell, once again, with the “what ifs” and “if only.”
I allow each breath to be a shudder of repressed sobs. I allow memories to surface. I smile, through the tears at the image of two little girls in Spain.
Eating ice cream;
Splashing in the pool;
Building sand castles;
Going “downtown” to ride the mechanical toys;
Playing with their Barbies (which once a week should be picked up or I might make good on my threat of coming through there with the vacuum cleaner;
Deciding what to wear (always the same).
These things scroll through my mind.
The little girls are a memory now. I lost one March 13th, 2003. I lost the other August 4th, 2017.
I’m so not ready for this. I want to yell and scream at the unfairness of it all. And I don’t understand. Why God, why?!
I don’t get an answer. Just the age-old reassurance.
“My Grace is sufficient for you.”
My thoughts drift to the thousands upon thousands of people who, for days, months, even years have been in survival mode. For one reason or another. And from the depths of my aching, yearning mother’s heart, I find wisdom to share.
Don’t look down the fairway of the future and cringe. Make it your prayer, your mantra –
“God, just get me through the next day, or hour. (or even minute if it’s really bad.)”
He can and He will. But don’t ask him to get you through the next year. Once again, He can and He will. But you, a small insignificant dot in the Infinite Plan of God, you can’t think that far ahead. Or that big.
Baby steps ………………………………………..Revival will come. And remember,
When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure.
Photo by Martins Zemlickis on Unsplash