It was a year ago today that I saw my last living grandfather for the last time. I didn’t know it was going to be the last time in the moment. But I believe God did, because we left nothing unsaid.
I wrote this to help process the renewed grief that hit my heart with the memory.
It comes in waves.
Waves of being able to breathe without conscious thought.
Waves of screaming till your lungs have expelled every air particle.
Waves of your throat being burdened with bricks that not a sound can pass through.
Waves of tears flowing freely during a moment of happiness because your subconscious mind knows he’s not there.
Waves of hope when you feel stable and balanced.
Waves of “Why?” Chasing anger throughout your mind.
Waves of normal days.
Waves of days you have to keep focusing on breathing through to the next minute.
Grief is a funny thing.
For me, it’s not being sad for the person. After all, they are in paradise and they are home forever more.
Grief has the same limit that love does – none.
For grief is the mourning of the minutes our love is away. It’s the flip side of the same coin.
Grief can steal your breath and convince you the silence in your ear equates to loneliness.
But it’s beautiful.
It’s the last action of love we can give here on earth.
I draw my comfort from the Comforter. He is near to the broken-hearted.
No one has experienced loss like Him. And yet no one puts aside His own heart to cuddle us close to His chest.
He doesn’t ask us to shoulder His emotions in the midst of our pain like other people do.
The constant offers of “let me know if you need anything,” weigh heavy.
Ask for gift cards and take out coupons. For the days when you can’t get up the gumption to cook. Or drive.
It helps because they feel like they’ve done something and you’ll have a reserve for the days when your tank is dry.
“How are you?” Is a question that grates.
‘Thank you for your kind thoughts, I’m not okay and it will be a while till I am. I’m not ready to talk.’
Writing letters to him helps.
For the days when it seems like it was only a bad dream.
For days when it’s seems more real than the clothes on your skin.
For the days of milestones and celebrations.
For the days of mundane tasks and nothing special.
Feel the wave when it comes. Write about it. Scream about it. Cry about it. Talk about it. Paint about it. Pray about it. Process it. But don’t wallow in it.
Give yourself grace as you learn what grief looks like for you. It’s different for everyone.
Don’t let others put their experience on you.
Try it all.
If it doesn’t work, let it go.
If it does, use it.
But grief is all a wave. A wave of goodbye to the ones we love from earth to heaven. Till we join them again….
