Grief

Sunday, November 6, 2022.  We’ve all heard that grief comes in waves.  It washes over you, overwhelms you, and then backs off until the next surge.  Eventually, the waves don’t crash over you quite as hard, but like the ocean, grief is always there waiting to drench you again.  What I’ve been thinking about lately is how you move on.  When we lived at the ocean, we used to walk out to see it all the time.  We’d sit and watch, entranced by it.  And it was always a struggle to decide when to walk away.  There was always one more wave that we wanted to wait for.  Obviously, we had to walk away at some point, but we always knew we could come back because the ocean is always there.  Grief is like that.  It’s always there, and it’s so hard to make the decision to walk away from it.  You feel like you’re leaving you’re loved one behind somehow.  But unlike the ocean, you can carry them with you.  The hard part is separating them from the grief; realizing that both can exist but they don’t need to be forever tied together.  I’m certainly no expert, and I know each person grieves in their own way.  But when I was praying about how to move forward after losing Jeff’s mom, God put this image on my heart.  We lost my mom seven years ago yesterday, so I think this week in November will always be a difficult one for us in the years ahead.  I was able to think of my mom without it tearing me apart at some point, and I know we’ll get there with Jeff’s mom, too.  My moms didn’t have the opportunity to know each other too well here on earth, but I’m hoping they’re having a grand time up in heaven.  I know I’ll see them again someday.  In the meantime, I’ll carry them both in my heart as I slowly walk away from those waves.