More hard things

Earlier this week as I drove to the school for my job in the drop off line, I was listening to the radio. My favorite in the mornings is Moody radio. I enjoy hearing the morning team. On Tuesday morning there was a clip of an interview with Toby Mac. He was talking about losing his son 2 years before Ben died. Toby talked about how he didn’t know grief before his son died. But when that happened he met grief. He mentioned how grief comes in waves. I read something the other day likening grief and loss to a shipwreck. When tragedy happens and the ship breaks apart you grab on to anything to keep yourself afloat. As you are floating in the sea the waves are crashing over you and all you can do is just try to survive that next wave. Just hold on until it passes. At first the waves are enormous and they come close together. As you are in the sea longer the waves don’t necessarily get smaller yet but they do get a little bit further apart. As they get further apart they then lessen in height. Eventually over time (and it is different for everybody) you can see the waves coming–a wedding, an anniversary, a birthday or some other reminder of the one you have lost. Just as the waves in the ocean don’t stop, so waves of grief will not cease. What happens though is that you start to see that you will survive them. That you will make it through.

On Wednesday morning as I was listening to the radio again on the way to school one of the hosts of the morning show talked about her grief in losing her dad. She told the story of how after returning home from a recent trip to CA that her bathroom was a mess. But if you had gone to her house you would have thought she had everything together. Her kitchen was clean. Her living room was in order. But in the hidden places of the master bedroom and bathroom it was a mess. She looked around and was overwhelmed with everything that needed to be done. She went on to say that when you are in the midst of grief as she was after having lost her dad that even the simple things can be hard to do. She said that though she looked okay on the outside that she was a mess on the inside. In the hidden places, she was struggling and not doing well.

Wednesday night I needed to drop something off to the church. A very good friend was there. She asked the dreaded question of how are you doing. Sometimes I can answer that and keep my composure. That night was not one of those nights. I told her that grief sucks and that I give it two thumbs down. I didn’t stick around to elaborate because I could feel the tears and grief welling up. So I bid them a good night of Awana and made my exit. And that is how it is some days. The truth is that on the inside things are a wreck. I can keep it together and look okay but then at times a wave hits me. In the quiet times and the times where I am alone the reality of my loss washes over me. There are times that I question how I can continue like this in the days, weeks, months and years ahead.

On Tuesdays Sabin has training for soccer. While he does that I make sure I have something to work on to pass the time. This week I decided that I needed to try to finish thank you notes. So I sat in the car and got out my notebook and the box of thank you notes and began to write out thank yous. And the tears flowed and flowed as I wrote out several. Thank you notes are a fairly simple thing normally. They turn into something that is far from simple in the midst of grief. It becomes overwhelming. I have many other seemingly simple tasks on my to do list that grief and loss make seem like monumental tasks. It is easy to look at everything that needs to be done and be completely overwhelmed and not know where to even start. The radio host on Wednesday went on to talk about how there was a lot to do to get her bathroom in order. She couldn’t do everything. But she could pick one thing that would make the biggest impact and do that. My to do list is quite long and overwhelming. I will continue to plug away at it and work through all the things that I need to do in the aftermath of Ben’s death.