One thing people don't tell you about grief? (Or at least no one ever told me.) Is how selfish it can make you feel. Okay, so I know I have this Huge Thing taking up space in my insides. A Huge Thing that is a Big Deal, a Huge Thing that is unpredictable, unreliable, and unknown. All I can do is endure and survive my way through it. I get that. So yes, it has to be dealt with (because trust me, ignoring it does not make it go away!), but I've come to realize how selfish I tend to be about it.
Take for instance last weekend. I was having lunch with a table full of friends and while we were having great conversation, I kept feeling weird inside. Like I just had to bring up mom and how I was struggling. Which is not a bad thing! But we'd already talked about it, alluded to it, and that convo point was done. So I shouldn't want to keep talking about it. Except I did. And it was weird. I did not end up bringing it up again, but I've thought about it a lot this week.
I've been pondering this question: can grief make you more selfish? I mean, I know it's normal to want to talk about the loved one you've lost, I get that. And I do think it's good to talk about them. To talk about your feelings and how you're handling things. To keep it all bottled up would make things much worse for yourself. But! Don't you think it's possible to go overboard with that if you're not careful? I'm not sure, but I think so. Because at what point does it go beyond needing to talk about it to wanting to be the center of attention or wanting to be known for this Huge Thing. I don't know if that makes sense or not, but hopefully you get what I'm asking?
Yes, I need to get this stuff out of my head and my heart and put it out there so I can deal with it. Because leaving it inside is not dealing with it. But if I talk too much, if I constantly bring it up all the time (I mean, if I brought it up as many times as I think about it, I'd definitely be bringing it up ALL the time!), it becomes possible for me to make it all about me. And it shouldn't be all about me! I'm the one going through it, yes. But I'm not the only one! At least in my family for sure, and in general, lots and lots of people have lost loved ones really close to them. So if I make it all about me, that could have the possibility of me becoming full of myself or somesuch, plus it would take away from others who are dealing with their own grief. Which is a Bit Not Good, yes? Yes!
I suppose what I'm trying to say is I'm learning how careful I need to be. I need to survive my way through this Huge Thing, yet God needs to continue to be glorified in it as well! It needs to become all about Him, never about me. The enemy would have me think otherwise and I don't want to go down that road. So forgive me, dear Jesus, if I've already started that path, and please help me to get back on track. And thank You for loving me anyway!
He > me
For sure and for certain.
8/3/16
7/23/16
No Words
I find it so interesting the way people react when I tell them my mom passed away recently. Some react immediately with this look on their face, the one that says "I'm so sorry for your hurt", and then they say those exact words. (I like those people.) Some react with additional words of "I understand. I've been there. I know it hurts. I know it's hard. But it gets easier, it really, really does." (I like those people too.) Others react with nothing really. They say sorry, but they don't know what else to say and so they change the subject. (I understand. I do. It's hard to know what to say at times like that.) Other times people have apologized for bringing her up in conversation. Or even for talking about their own mother.
I just wish I could tell them it's okay. It's okay to let me be sad. It's okay to remind me of mom and cause me to feel sad again. Because let me tell you, there's no getting around that! It's okay to talk about my mom. (I especially love doing that actually.) It's okay to talk about your mom. If you still have your mom, naturally you want to talk about her sometimes. Please do! It helps. Somehow.
And to all those who have no words....I understand. I really do! Prior to this past May, I was in your shoes. You go to a funeral and you want so badly to have words to encourage the family. You feel awkward just standing there silent and you feel like you need to say something. But you have nothing, so you repeat the same old things everyone always says at times like that.
Can I tell you a secret? Words aren't needed.
They really aren't. During the visitation line, I heard "You have my sympathy" SO many times. By the end of that night, I was kind of tired of hearing those words. I still am. Sympathy isn't a bad thing, I get that. But it doesn't really say a whole lot either.
But let me repeat, words are not necessary. Just being there, standing in front of me tells me a whole lot. Hugs tell me even more! (I should make clear, if you're unable to be there in person then obviously words are all you'll have, whether by phone or written in a note. In which case, words are necessary. Just not sympathy, okay? Really truly not.) Looking back, I can't tell you anything one single person told me. But I do remember the feelings I felt from those who came. I remember quite vividly a particular cousin and several close friends who came and hugged me tight for a long, long time. I remember how I felt in those moments very clearly. If I sit and think on it a while, they come back to me and the sadness rushes back too. But it's a good sad!
Is that weird to say? "It's a good sad"? Probably. But it is. While this new path I'm on isn't easy (not by a long shot!), it's still good. I can find rest and joy in it. Some days easier than other, certainly.
Sad is pretty much a constant in my life right now. And that's okay. There's no way for me to be any different. Only time is going to change it. And actually I really think there's always going to be this small part of my heart sad for the rest of my life. And that's okay too. It means she meant a lot to me! I'll just be Kara with a hole inside. Luckily for me, my Father understands. I think He went through a sadness when He turned His back on Jesus. So I know He understands! And He's getting me through.
Little by little, He's getting me through.
I just wish I could tell them it's okay. It's okay to let me be sad. It's okay to remind me of mom and cause me to feel sad again. Because let me tell you, there's no getting around that! It's okay to talk about my mom. (I especially love doing that actually.) It's okay to talk about your mom. If you still have your mom, naturally you want to talk about her sometimes. Please do! It helps. Somehow.
And to all those who have no words....I understand. I really do! Prior to this past May, I was in your shoes. You go to a funeral and you want so badly to have words to encourage the family. You feel awkward just standing there silent and you feel like you need to say something. But you have nothing, so you repeat the same old things everyone always says at times like that.
Can I tell you a secret? Words aren't needed.
They really aren't. During the visitation line, I heard "You have my sympathy" SO many times. By the end of that night, I was kind of tired of hearing those words. I still am. Sympathy isn't a bad thing, I get that. But it doesn't really say a whole lot either.
sympathy: noun the fact or power of sharing the feelings of another, especially in sorrow or trouble; fellow feeling, compassion, or commiserationI think that definition was created because of the people that go to funerals and don't know what else to say. And most times, I've noticed, it's said by those who've not experienced losing this significant person in their life yet. Those who've been there? They don't usually say it.
But let me repeat, words are not necessary. Just being there, standing in front of me tells me a whole lot. Hugs tell me even more! (I should make clear, if you're unable to be there in person then obviously words are all you'll have, whether by phone or written in a note. In which case, words are necessary. Just not sympathy, okay? Really truly not.) Looking back, I can't tell you anything one single person told me. But I do remember the feelings I felt from those who came. I remember quite vividly a particular cousin and several close friends who came and hugged me tight for a long, long time. I remember how I felt in those moments very clearly. If I sit and think on it a while, they come back to me and the sadness rushes back too. But it's a good sad!
Is that weird to say? "It's a good sad"? Probably. But it is. While this new path I'm on isn't easy (not by a long shot!), it's still good. I can find rest and joy in it. Some days easier than other, certainly.
Sad is pretty much a constant in my life right now. And that's okay. There's no way for me to be any different. Only time is going to change it. And actually I really think there's always going to be this small part of my heart sad for the rest of my life. And that's okay too. It means she meant a lot to me! I'll just be Kara with a hole inside. Luckily for me, my Father understands. I think He went through a sadness when He turned His back on Jesus. So I know He understands! And He's getting me through.
Little by little, He's getting me through.
6/27/16
breathing hope
Some days just breathing is about all I can do
It's all so fresh
so raw
It hurts
I imagine getting over it
but I can't
How can I?
My
Mother
Is
Gone
Words that I imagined saying before
but I could never have imagined these feelings
When they say there's a hollowness inside your chest?
they're right
When they say your throat becomes a lump of hard
& it's near impossible to swallow?
they're right
When they say the tears come at odd moments
& swallow you whole?
they're right
When they say bursts of emotion will happen
& then you're fine again?
they're right
When they say your memories come back
& make you laugh
& cry all at the same time?
they're right
When they say you want to talk about your mother all the time
& bring her up in every conversation?
they're right
When they say it takes TIME?
they're right
It's feelings unlike any I've ever felt before
& the millions of words I could try
to describe them wouldn't even begin to scratch the surface
or even make sense
unless you've been there
unless you've felt it too
unless you're still feeling it
Because losing your mother is only experienced
it cannot be described
or imagined
it can only be felt
& adjusted to
there is no getting over
There's only straight through
one small step
one smile
one choice
Keep
Living
Hope on, my heart
Life is waiting
6.27.16
kara
It's all so fresh
so raw
It hurts
I imagine getting over it
but I can't
How can I?
My
Mother
Is
Gone
Words that I imagined saying before
but I could never have imagined these feelings
When they say there's a hollowness inside your chest?
they're right
When they say your throat becomes a lump of hard
& it's near impossible to swallow?
they're right
When they say the tears come at odd moments
& swallow you whole?
they're right
When they say bursts of emotion will happen
& then you're fine again?
they're right
When they say your memories come back
& make you laugh
& cry all at the same time?
they're right
When they say you want to talk about your mother all the time
& bring her up in every conversation?
they're right
When they say it takes TIME?
they're right
It's feelings unlike any I've ever felt before
& the millions of words I could try
to describe them wouldn't even begin to scratch the surface
or even make sense
unless you've been there
unless you've felt it too
unless you're still feeling it
Because losing your mother is only experienced
it cannot be described
or imagined
it can only be felt
& adjusted to
there is no getting over
There's only straight through
one small step
one smile
one choice
Keep
Living
Hope on, my heart
Life is waiting
6.27.16
kara
I miss her...
I miss her
I miss her smiles
I miss her hugs
I miss her grin when I was teasing
I miss our convos
& how she always listened
to every
single
heartache
I miss her hands
(squeezing mine)
I miss her shoulders
(just bony enough, yet soft enough for me to lay on)
I miss her fingers
(combing my hair & wiping my tears)
I miss how she knew just what I needed when I was sick
I miss sitting in comfortable silences while we both read books
I miss sneaking bagfuls of new books past dad's all-seeing eyes
I miss her 'hello's' when I walk through the front door
I miss seeing her on the front row at church
I miss calling her for advice
I miss just knowing she was in the room
I miss her in the morning
(when I wake up & remember)
I miss her in the middle of the day
(when I just want to hear her voice)
I miss her at night
(when the silences bear down with tears)
I miss her
I miss her
I miss her
I miss her in this jagged-edged hole in my heart
this wound that seems as raw & fresh as the first day
I just miss my mom.
6.22.16
kara
I miss her smiles
I miss her hugs
I miss her grin when I was teasing
I miss our convos
& how she always listened
to every
single
heartache
I miss her hands
(squeezing mine)
I miss her shoulders
(just bony enough, yet soft enough for me to lay on)
I miss her fingers
(combing my hair & wiping my tears)
I miss how she knew just what I needed when I was sick
I miss sitting in comfortable silences while we both read books
I miss sneaking bagfuls of new books past dad's all-seeing eyes
I miss her 'hello's' when I walk through the front door
I miss seeing her on the front row at church
I miss calling her for advice
I miss just knowing she was in the room
I miss her in the morning
(when I wake up & remember)
I miss her in the middle of the day
(when I just want to hear her voice)
I miss her at night
(when the silences bear down with tears)
I miss her
I miss her
I miss her
I miss her in this jagged-edged hole in my heart
this wound that seems as raw & fresh as the first day
I just miss my mom.
6.22.16
kara
6/11/16
Joy
Scrolling through Instagram recently, I read this (isn't it awesome how God works?! How He places the thing we needed in our paths most unexpectedly? I love that.):
For all the sad I'm feeling, for the hurt and the pain of saying goodbye way before I was ready (which, I'm pretty sure I'd never be ready to let go of my mother), for the myriad of emotions that I struggle with daily, this One Thing I have never, ever been in doubt of: the Hope that I will see her again some day, that she's left her wheelchair and her broken body behind and is with Jesus where no tears will ever be felt again, only Joy!
That gets me out of bed every day. That eases the pain SO much. That thought is one of the most comforting things. It really, really is!
So take that, satan. I'm choosing JOY! Even in the midst of my tears and this hole in my heart that will most likely never go away completely, I. Choose. Joy. I choose Hope. I choose Jesus.
He will NEVER let me down.
This week has the potential of overwhelming my heart. It has the potential of stealing my joy and tripping me up. But it also has the potential for me to see God beautifully orchestrate circumstances beyond my control for His glory. It has the potential for me to experience a quiet heart in the chaos of life. By His grace, I am choosing the latter.This was timely for a couple reasons. There was some Hard I was dealing with at that moment which had nothing to do with losing mom. (And I was struggling with it. Because losing mom has been difficult, but adding more turmoil to my heart on top of that was the pits!) But as I got through that and then focused back on my grief, I realized this was still true. The enemy is absolutely determined to steal joy from me. And I refuse to let him. I must choose that every single day actually, because he never gives up. Thankfully? Neither does my Father! And guess Who's going to win?! :)
I am choosing to rejoice in what is to come and to be confident in Who my God is. I am choosing to base my days off of His promises and not my feelings. I am choosing to throw my cares at the foot of the cross instead of carrying them like dead weight on my back. I am choosing to trust Jesus and thank Him for being faithful before tomorrow even comes. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever, and He will certainly be faithful tomorrow.
As Elisabeth Elliot once said - "Today is mine. Tomorrow is none of my business. If I peer anxiously into the fog of the future, I will strain my spiritual eyes so that I will not see clearly what is required of me now." I am leaving the worries in His hands and lifting my own in worship this evening. This week not only has the potential to be a beautiful display of His grace, it can be a reality because our God is just that good.
For all the sad I'm feeling, for the hurt and the pain of saying goodbye way before I was ready (which, I'm pretty sure I'd never be ready to let go of my mother), for the myriad of emotions that I struggle with daily, this One Thing I have never, ever been in doubt of: the Hope that I will see her again some day, that she's left her wheelchair and her broken body behind and is with Jesus where no tears will ever be felt again, only Joy!
That gets me out of bed every day. That eases the pain SO much. That thought is one of the most comforting things. It really, really is!
So take that, satan. I'm choosing JOY! Even in the midst of my tears and this hole in my heart that will most likely never go away completely, I. Choose. Joy. I choose Hope. I choose Jesus.
He will NEVER let me down.
I wish...
:: I wish I could just be Okay.
:: I wish that I didn't get tired of answering the same questions from family and friends and repeating the story a gazillion times.
:: I wish they didn't all say the same sorts of things that I've heard again and again.
:: I wish they understood that I know that God's in control. (It's just hard to remember that some moments. He understands though. I believe that with all my heart.)
:: I wish they would've told mom how they felt about her when she was still here, rather than visiting after she was gone and telling me how much she meant to them. (I appreciate hearing that. I do. But mom would've too. In fact, I think she needed to have heard those sorts of things in the recent months before she left, but she didn't. And that hurts me too.)
:: I wish I didn't feel hurt over things not said or not done for her while she was still here.
:: I wish I knew how to even begin to express that to everyone. (I know they all mean well. I know a lot of them don't know our journey and out of love and concern they wish to know how to pray. I know they don't know what to say. I know that. I understand that. But my feelings are real and non-negotiable. I wish I could change them to be what I want.)
:: I wish I could tell everyone who's been praying for my family how very much we appreciate that.
:: I wish I could tell them how much it means to know we're loved.
:: I wish I could tell them what all the hugs, text messages, phone calls, and blog comments mean to me.
:: I wish I even had words to describe what I'm feeling.
:: I wish the anger and fear I'm processing would go away.
:: I wish the things that frustrate me would stop doing that.
:: I wish I understood how I can cry and smile at the same time.
:: I wish I could cry it all out and get over it. (But I know getting over it isn't possible. Ever. You don't just get over losing your mother.)
:: I wish I could talk to her again.
:: I wish I could hug her again.
:: I wish I could just spend time in her presence again.
:: I wish I could see her smile one more time.
:: I wish I knew what to say to dad.
:: I wish I could make his grief better.
:: I wish I knew how to make things better for my brothers.
:: I wish I knew how to explain grief to my nieces and nephews.
:: I wish I understood how grief works.
:: I wish I knew what to say to those who ask me about her.
:: I wish I knew how to fill those Awkward Silences.
:: I wish I didn't react so strongly to things right now because my emotions are so near the surface.
:: I wish I even understood myself.
:: I wish I knew what to tell people when they ask how I'm really doing.
:: I wish I could just be Okay.
I wish, I wish, I wish. I wish so very many things! But here I am. Unable to make any of that happen. All I can do is put one foot in front of the other and step. Sometimes it's a big step, sometimes I move barely an inch. But I am moving. That counts, right?
:: I wish that I didn't get tired of answering the same questions from family and friends and repeating the story a gazillion times.
:: I wish they didn't all say the same sorts of things that I've heard again and again.
:: I wish they understood that I know that God's in control. (It's just hard to remember that some moments. He understands though. I believe that with all my heart.)
:: I wish they would've told mom how they felt about her when she was still here, rather than visiting after she was gone and telling me how much she meant to them. (I appreciate hearing that. I do. But mom would've too. In fact, I think she needed to have heard those sorts of things in the recent months before she left, but she didn't. And that hurts me too.)
:: I wish I didn't feel hurt over things not said or not done for her while she was still here.
:: I wish I knew how to even begin to express that to everyone. (I know they all mean well. I know a lot of them don't know our journey and out of love and concern they wish to know how to pray. I know they don't know what to say. I know that. I understand that. But my feelings are real and non-negotiable. I wish I could change them to be what I want.)
:: I wish I could tell everyone who's been praying for my family how very much we appreciate that.
:: I wish I could tell them how much it means to know we're loved.
:: I wish I could tell them what all the hugs, text messages, phone calls, and blog comments mean to me.
:: I wish I even had words to describe what I'm feeling.
:: I wish the anger and fear I'm processing would go away.
:: I wish the things that frustrate me would stop doing that.
:: I wish I understood how I can cry and smile at the same time.
:: I wish I could cry it all out and get over it. (But I know getting over it isn't possible. Ever. You don't just get over losing your mother.)
:: I wish I could talk to her again.
:: I wish I could hug her again.
:: I wish I could just spend time in her presence again.
:: I wish I could see her smile one more time.
:: I wish I knew what to say to dad.
:: I wish I could make his grief better.
:: I wish I knew how to make things better for my brothers.
:: I wish I knew how to explain grief to my nieces and nephews.
:: I wish I understood how grief works.
:: I wish I knew what to say to those who ask me about her.
:: I wish I knew how to fill those Awkward Silences.
:: I wish I didn't react so strongly to things right now because my emotions are so near the surface.
:: I wish I even understood myself.
:: I wish I knew what to tell people when they ask how I'm really doing.
:: I wish I could just be Okay.
I wish, I wish, I wish. I wish so very many things! But here I am. Unable to make any of that happen. All I can do is put one foot in front of the other and step. Sometimes it's a big step, sometimes I move barely an inch. But I am moving. That counts, right?
FEELINGS
Do you ever feel like something is so big in your life, it has changed you so significantly, that it should show on your outsides somehow?
In my heart, I know saying goodbye to mom isn't going to show, it's only my insides that have changed. But there's just been this weird feeling for the past three weeks every single time I go somewhere new or somewhere I haven't been since before mom passed. I walk in and I feel like everyone there is going to notice this Big Thing about me (like I have a giant sign on my forehead stating "I'm grieving because I just lost my mother"), but no one ever does. Of course they don't! Yet it feels like they will. Every. Single. Time. It's the strangest feeling really. Even when it's not.
Emotions are just so chaotic and crazy, aren't they? For those precious three weeks in May, my heart felt on my sleeve constantly. I was breaking, yet I had to be strong because I had things to do. I had meals to prepare and laundry to wash, nieces and nephews to chat with and hug, friends and family stopping in mom and dad's at convenient and inconvenient times, my job to go to, my own house to worry about, oh so many things! And of course I spent as much time as possible just sitting by mom's bedside, staring at her face, adjusting to this new reality that I didn't like. Trying to make sense of it all felt impossible. It still does.
I have repeated over and over and over (to all the myriad of family and friends who ask) that this experience is hard, yet good. And it is! But I realize that it's only been three weeks and there's so many more emotions I'm going to have to adjust to. Emotions I cannot prepare myself for because I haven't felt them yet. I don't even know how I'm going to react tomorrow, let alone the next hour or three. Or even this next second! And I want to be strong. Some moments I am and some moments I'm not.
One thing that surprised me about this journey? Something I never thought about before this. When it's your Loved One who is gone, yet all those who come to comfort you, you actually end up comforting them. It's funny how that works actually. And I'm not complaining about it! Because they loved mom too. They're processing just the same as I am. I've just always thought about visitations/viewings as the time when I go to comfort the family, when it's actually the very opposite.
.......or maybe it's simply that we comfort each other.
Yes, I like that better. There were so many times during the standing and the hugging and the chatting that I got tired of comforting them. I got tired of saying the same things over and over again. But maybe if I remember that they were there because they're trying to become Okay with this too, that'll help. Yep. I like that.
There's just a huge amount of FEELINGS when you say a Final Goodbye to someone you love. I don't understand them. I'm struggling to process them. I don't know when I'm going to be Okay. But some day I will. I believe that. God will get me through. Moment by moment by moment. And I trust that one day I'll wake up and it'll hurt a little less. And one day things will feel a little more normal again. (Whatever normal is, right? :)
And one day? One extra special awesome day? I'll get to see her again. And the glorious thought of seeing her without her wheelchair and walking around gives me Hope.
And HOPE makes all the difference.
In my heart, I know saying goodbye to mom isn't going to show, it's only my insides that have changed. But there's just been this weird feeling for the past three weeks every single time I go somewhere new or somewhere I haven't been since before mom passed. I walk in and I feel like everyone there is going to notice this Big Thing about me (like I have a giant sign on my forehead stating "I'm grieving because I just lost my mother"), but no one ever does. Of course they don't! Yet it feels like they will. Every. Single. Time. It's the strangest feeling really. Even when it's not.
Emotions are just so chaotic and crazy, aren't they? For those precious three weeks in May, my heart felt on my sleeve constantly. I was breaking, yet I had to be strong because I had things to do. I had meals to prepare and laundry to wash, nieces and nephews to chat with and hug, friends and family stopping in mom and dad's at convenient and inconvenient times, my job to go to, my own house to worry about, oh so many things! And of course I spent as much time as possible just sitting by mom's bedside, staring at her face, adjusting to this new reality that I didn't like. Trying to make sense of it all felt impossible. It still does.
I have repeated over and over and over (to all the myriad of family and friends who ask) that this experience is hard, yet good. And it is! But I realize that it's only been three weeks and there's so many more emotions I'm going to have to adjust to. Emotions I cannot prepare myself for because I haven't felt them yet. I don't even know how I'm going to react tomorrow, let alone the next hour or three. Or even this next second! And I want to be strong. Some moments I am and some moments I'm not.
One thing that surprised me about this journey? Something I never thought about before this. When it's your Loved One who is gone, yet all those who come to comfort you, you actually end up comforting them. It's funny how that works actually. And I'm not complaining about it! Because they loved mom too. They're processing just the same as I am. I've just always thought about visitations/viewings as the time when I go to comfort the family, when it's actually the very opposite.
.......or maybe it's simply that we comfort each other.
Yes, I like that better. There were so many times during the standing and the hugging and the chatting that I got tired of comforting them. I got tired of saying the same things over and over again. But maybe if I remember that they were there because they're trying to become Okay with this too, that'll help. Yep. I like that.
There's just a huge amount of FEELINGS when you say a Final Goodbye to someone you love. I don't understand them. I'm struggling to process them. I don't know when I'm going to be Okay. But some day I will. I believe that. God will get me through. Moment by moment by moment. And I trust that one day I'll wake up and it'll hurt a little less. And one day things will feel a little more normal again. (Whatever normal is, right? :)
And one day? One extra special awesome day? I'll get to see her again. And the glorious thought of seeing her without her wheelchair and walking around gives me Hope.
And HOPE makes all the difference.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)