Here are some thoughts which have been bouncing around in my head, heart and soul.
Several months ago, I was struggling with the fact I simply wasn't able to jump back into activities I previously loved and handled with ease. I find myself distracted, impatient with chit chat, and with folks who were SOOO upset over things I consider inconsequential. My "lack of normalcy" and failure to progress as others seemed to think I should on the grief journey frustrated me. I was doing well - until I wasn't. I was strong - until I was weak. My faith could move mountains, until I was immobilized by fear and longing.
My honest replies make others uncomfortable when they ASK, "How are you doing?" I've lost some filter for social interactions others possess. My emotions are intense, my relationships have a deeper sense of intention to them, I'm acutely aware of how fleeting time can be.
Around this time Lee, a friend from food co-op, shared she had a friend who lost a child to violence. She said the process of grief and the trial was tumultuous!
Tumultuous!
"Loud, excited, confused, disorderly."
Yes. That's it. Grief is tumultuous! Grief takes many forms; at times quiet and solitary, at times demanding and grating. It's disorderly. It's confusing. It's NOT linear. Having a WORD helps things fall into place. There is a word for what I feel - the word is tumultuous!
This fall has been harder than I expected. Several family members have mentioned fall being difficult. We have so many fun memories in the summer and fall and Josiah is right in the middle of them. This year he is conspicuously absent. We feel the "anniversary" drawing near...there is a sense one is allowed to mourn for the year of firsts and then, like magic, all will be well and "normal."
But it's not.
When we lived in Japan, we saw our adult children once a year. This isn't so very different...and yet as one year draws near there are no anticipated visits. It is totally different. The permanence of Josiah's death begins to take root down deep in my heart and soul.
In so much of life and faith we live with the tension of the now and not yet. We experience the same tension in our grief. The permanence of loss and the hope brought by our faith in Jesus. This world is not the end. All justice does not have to come from the world's system. We will see Josiah again. We will. And yet now...it hurts. Now I forgive AND I wrestle with the need to pray for the one who robbed us of Josiah. Some days I dream of redemption and some days I dream of justice.
Sometimes it's a dull ache and sometimes it's a tearing, ripping pain. Sometimes it's a sense of loneliness in the midst of a family gathering and sometimes it's a sweet memory.
It's disorganized, unexpected, ever-changing.
I have wrestled with Christian cliches, with secondary losses, with issues of faith I thought were settled years ago...one thing I have known through it all...God remains with me. Always. In the pit of despair and on days when I feel like I'm handling it well. When we are too much for others...we are never too much for God. God doesn't care what we are DOING, he cares about who we are becoming.
I'm finding community with those who are willing to take off masks and admit there is pain, there are questions, there are things we cannot fix. We are not meant, after all, to fix ourselves. So much of the time when we "get it wrong" it's because we are uncomfortable admitting the tension we are surrounded by - we want a quick faith that will fix all.
God offers something better - His presence, His faithful love - a love that invites honest emotions and questions.
So - "How am I today?"
I am moving forward on the tumultuous journey of grief. I'm learning to live with the tension of incredible loss and fantastic hope and to be honest with both the loss and the hope, the joy and the sorrow... I have taken great strides in being comfortable with making space for all the emotions, all the grief, all the memories, the tension and with being totally MISUNDERSTOOD by those who have never had to walk this journey.
While some fear I've lost a measure of faith, the reality is my faith is deeper, my relationship with God much more authentic. I have never felt His censor of my grief. He is with me in the lament. I have discovered that's enough.
And, who knows, with time I may become comfortable with chit chat once again...right now I can handle about 5 minutes.