These days, there’s a whole lot swirling around in my head, my heart and even in my home, where the kitchen is under construction and everything seems to be out of place and covered in dust.
The good news is that the mess, while inconvenient and distracting, has not derailed me. That, my friends, is a faint sign of growth. Not huge growth, like I’m hoping to see on the fast-growing juniper bushes I planted in my backyard a few weeks ago. But growth nonetheless, when you consider how anxious and irritable I used to get a decade or so ago when one little thing was out of place.
If nothing else, life has a way of making us more flexible, doesn’t it?
Last Monday night, I was the only participant at my GriefShare group. The sweet leader and I watched the video together and then sat and talked for a long time, just the two of us.
I pulled out my phone and showed her pictures of my parents, back when they were still looking happy and healthy. Then I shared pictures of my dad near the end of his life, including some where we were sitting close together on the loveseat in his room at the nursing home.
He was leaning up against me and I was holding his hand.
The quality of the picture isn’t great—it’s dark and we’re both sorta schlumpy looking. But the moments that Molly captured on my iPhone were sacred.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I do now.
I started writing this on Oct. 29, exactly five months after my dad died. I’ll be posting it on Nov. 5, which is my 49th birthday.
Honestly, I don’t know what that day will be like. I do know that it’s Election Day, and I’ll be taking Lilly to vote for the first time.
Her birthday is one day before mine, and she’s all excited about turning 18 and being able to do all the things 18-year-olds get to do. As she should be.
So we have a daughter turning 18, me turning 49 (a number which, honestly, isn’t that big of a deal to me), me having my first birthday without my parents (which might be a big deal but I won’t know until it happens) and the space in my house where I spend most of my time under construction.
On top of all that, we’ve now officially reached the season when, one year ago, my dad’s health really started declining. I don’t even have to consult my prayer journal or calendar to remember all the sad events, one after another. They’re seared in my memory like they just happened yesterday.
I don’t think I’m suffering from PTSD or anything. It’s more of a quiet realization that never quite leaves. The other day, for example, I got an email from the U.S. Postal Service telling me that the mail-forwarding service I started on Nov. 30, 2018, would end on the same date this year.
I didn’t sign up for a year initially. It was just for one month, because my dad was supposed to have gone to rehab, gotten better and then moved to assisted living, where he could resume getting his own mail.
That was the plan, anyway. But it never happened, and I kept adding more months of mail forwarding, knowing that someday, I’d have to make it permanent.
Back then, I didn’t realize what permanent was going to look like. Now, of course, I have a much better idea.
At least when it comes to my parents. They’re with Jesus; they’re good.
As for me, I’m good too. I’m also sad, sometimes. But I’m learning, as those who have loved and lost before me, that joy and sadness can coexist. That grief won’t break me; that as I move through it, it softens.
Many of the memories ache now, but as my heart is healing, they’re growing warmer.
My dad turned 86 the day before he died. When I wrote a blog post about his birthday, I ended with Psalm 118:24—a verse in his favorite essay, and one that I see in my egg carton every morning when I’m making breakfast.
“This is the day which the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”
Out of all the verses in the Bible, that’s the one that comes to mind now, as I write about my own birthday.
The past is done; the future is unknown. But the God of all our days has given us this one to enjoy, so let’s get on with it.
♥ Lois
The God of all our days has given us this one to enjoy, so let’s get on with it. Share on XP.S. Thanks to all of you who commented about Randy’s lovely signs last week (and were thereby entered in a drawing to win one). And the winner is … Valerie Riese from Wisconsin, who blogs at victorythroughsurrender.com. I’ll be in touch, Valerie!
Finally, I’m linking up this week with Purposeful Faith, #TellHisStory, Let’s Have Coffee, Faith on Fire, Faith ‘n Friends and Grace & Truth.
19 comments
Oh friend, the bitter and the sweet, the pain and the joy mingle and somehow co-exist. It’s an odd grace, but still grace indeed.
Especially on these anniversary occasions, these holidays that loom ahead.
I hear exactly what you’re saying. And it is possible to look forward even as you’re looking back. And that’s a blessing indeed.
Looking forward even as we look back. That’s a wonderful way to describe it, Linda. Hope and healing go hand in hand with that, don’t they? I’m so glad we can take this walk through the holidays together, my friend.
It’s never easy to lose someone you love dearly. The holidays are especially hard, but if allowed, He will once again infuse hope and joy into the crevices of your healing heart. Praying God’s tender hand comfort you through this season. Hugs!
First, I hope your birthday (and your daughter’s) were happy. You are exactly right – your parents are good, it’s those of us left behind to grieve who need help. I can remember my parents’ last years too. Some of the memories are not so good, but there were some good times too, even then. Praying for you, Lois! Being softened, even by grief, isn’t a bad thing.
Thanks so much, Laurie. I agree about the softening process … God uses various tools to accomplish that work in our lives, and grief is definitely one of them. Good to hear from you last week, my friend!
Yes, “let’s get on with it.”
I love that because it implies a gritty obedience that doesn’t come without trust.
And I’m grateful that you are using this space to process the loss, because I’m doing some remembering along with you.
Blessings to you and your newly minted adult!
Ha ha, Michele … I just shared your “newly minted adult” comment with Lilly and I think she appreciated it. 🙂 I’m so glad you’re here as I work through these things … I know I’ve said it before and I’ll probably say it again, but there’s so much comfort in knowing others have been down this road before me!
Happy belated birthday, Lois! Praying for you and thankful for wisdom like this. Learning as you share. Beauty and sadness can co-exist.
Thanks, Bethany. I hope November is going well for you, my friend! 🙂
I was 48 on my first birthday without my parents, so I relate to what you’re saying, Lois. It’s a different feeling when the people who brought you into the world have left it without you. My memory is still strong about so many things in that last year of their lives; I want it to stay that way, even though some of the memories are hard ones. Praying for you, friend! I love that you say grief doesn’t have to break us; it can soften.
Thank you so much for your prayers, Lisa. That’s so interesting that you were right around the same age as I am that first year without your parents. I think I’m like you when it comes to the memories … even though some are difficult, they also contain sweetness because I was able to love and care for my parents through them in some very tangible ways. Hugs, friend.
Happy Birthday, Lois! And Happy Birthday to Lilly as well! I can’t believe she’s 18 already. I’m so sorry for the pain you must be feeling to have your first birthday without your parents. The older I get, the more I’m learning, too, that joy and sadness can coexist. Even though it has been over 13 years since my mom passed away, I always get more sad at this time of year, because she loved it so when our family got together for Thanksgiving Day or any other day. I can still see the joy on her face to see her children all together. Since she’s gone, even though my dad was still here, each family focused more on their more immediate families. Not a bad thing, really, but the finality of generations leaving always saddens me, I guess. When my dad passed away, too, four years later, the finality really hit me. I’m so sorry it had to hit you doubly hard to lose both parents so close together, my friend. I’m curious. What brand of eggs has that Bible verse in it? That is so amazing. I love it when businesses do that. 🙂 Blessings, love, and hugs to you!
Dear Trudy … thank you so much for your birthday greetings and for sharing about your mom’s love of Thanksgiving. My mom also loved the holidays when many family members were able to come home. I’m sorry that you are also without parents but thankful for the way you understand … I don’t know if “the finality of generations leaving” has really hit me yet, but I have a feeling that will come. And about those eggs? The brand is called “Goldhen and it’s sold at Aldi! Love and hugs back to you, my friend!
Happy Birthday! Yes, the older I get the more I realize that joy and pain often coexist. So often there is not one without the other. The sadness of Christ’s death, the joy of his resurrection. The pain of childbirth, the joy of new life. May you coming year be one of peace.
Ah … a peace-filled year! That sounds wonderful, Theresa. I hope the same for you, my friend!
Lois,
Happy 49th Birthday!! The holidays are bittersweet for me as well. They aren’t the Norman Rockwell visions that bounce about in my head. There is heartache, but like you, I am learning that joy and pain or sadness can coexist. Life is not an “either/or” but a “both/and”. I pray that the memories of your parents will grow dearer and sweeter as time goes on, but the twinge in your heart is perfectly normal. Lovely post!
Blessings,
Bev xx
Thank you, Bev! I totally agree about “both/and” rather than “either/or.” Knowing in advance that these kinds of days may hold all sorts of emotions helps in some way, don’t you think? I’m sorry that the holidays are bittersweet for you too, but I appreciate your kind words and perspective. 🙂
Lois, it is amazing to me how our minds play the game of “this time last year”. Memories and time become so etched in our thoughts. I pray that as you celebrate this birthday, God fills it with precious memories of birthdays past, of things your parents did or said on your birthday.
Thank you so much, Joanne. Hugs, friend. 🙂