Tag: sad

My Relationship with Grief Today

stephaniemoorewrites

Grief is isolating.

We mourn with others.

We grieve alone.

The pain is the missing.

Her voice.

Her sweet smile.

Her laugh. Even the fake ones.

Her snuggles.

Her winks.

It’s in the quiet moments.

Those soul crushing quiet moments.

Banging on the steering wheel.

Pounding the bed.

Dropping to your knees, pain.

Curling up in the closet, crying.

Grappling with the could of’s and the should of’s.

That will never be.

Trying to find contentment.

Trying to be as whole as possible.

Never quite successful.

But I want to be.

I have hope.

Not always on the surface.

Not always accessible.

But there.

I have hope that I will see her again.

Because of Him.

Joy and Grief

stephaniemoorewrites

Pendulum

I’ve heard this concept explained in a few different ways but my favorite is the visual of the pendulum.

On one side there’s extreme joy.

On the other extreme grief.

Then in between are various levels of grief and joy.

When one experiences great joy with a person, when that person is gone, great grief is felt.

I experienced extreme joy with Rory. Which then leaves me with extreme grief.

Would I be willing to give up the joy I had with her to now lessen the pain I’m in?

Would I give up the daily kisses and hugs that made me feel special?

Would I give up the hilarity of watching her try out new dance moves?

Would I give up the comfort of her morning cuddles?

Would I give up the extreme pride I felt when I watched her conquer her anxiety?

Would I give up the funny faces she would make with me at church?

Would I give up making her my buddy for those years? Taking her everywhere?

Each of those make the pendulum tip a little higher.

That girl.

She brought extreme joy to our lives. Her absence has left extreme grief.

But I’ll take the grief.

I’ll live with it for the rest of my life. Because it meant that she was part of it.

Part of me.

You Gotta Have Faith

stephaniemoorewrites
Me about Rory’s age when she passed.

I enjoy reading other people’s Facebook posts. I like to see happy. I like to see the good and the fun going on with my friends and family. It’s hopeful.

Sometimes when I see these posts they’re framed with the idea that God is good. They’re expressing their gratitude to God and love for their life.

It makes me wonder.

If their life suddenly turned into something like my life, would their love and gratitude remain? Would they still proclaim, “God is good?”

It makes me wonder.

Do I express my love and gratitude? Do I still say, “God is good?”

When I was about the age Rory was when she passed away, I started grappling with the idea of Heavenly Father’s love for me. I had faith in my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ but I couldn’t understand why They would send me down here to fail.

I had this feeling that I would never be good enough.

It sent me on a soul search for over a decade.

What I realized as I studied, thought, and prayed is that God is love.

He’s absolute love.

When I read the New Testament about the life of Jesus Christ, He is love.

My Heavenly Parents and Jesus Christ loved those people.

I’ve felt Their love for my family. My parents. My husband. My kids. My friends. Those I serve.

I felt Their love for me. By faith. And it was a hard earned personal revelation. But it’s the cornerstone that’s sustained me these last few months.

Love. God sacrificed His son for me. For all of us. Jesus Christ suffered for me. For all of us.

My love for Rory is probably less than 1/100th of Their love for me. For all of us.

And I love Rory a whole lot.

While my life is more painful, that love hasn’t changed. They haven’t forsaken me.

I don’t understand it.

I don’t necessarily love my life as much right now I’m grateful for it.

I have Faith.

I have hope.

I know I’m not walking alone.

That enables me to take my next footstep.

It helps me to still say, “God is good.”

Life Sucks

stephaniemoorewrites

The last couple of weeks have been “life sucks” weeks.

Okay. It’s probably the last eight months. But like I said before, some days, some weeks, are worse than others.

So these have been worse weeks.

We have this huge hole, this huge sadness in our lives. Everything else should just fall into place, right? Right?

Nope.

There’s still crappiness.

Big decisions still have to be made.

Life doesn’t stop. It just keeps coming.

I take deep breaths and just try to roll with it.

But there are days that I’m hitting my steering wheel in anger.

And some that I’m curled up in my closet in tears.

This is what I hate.

Each of the boys have, in different ways, asked me if I’m sad the last few days.

I hate that.

I don’t want the boys to think of me as a sad mom.

I didn’t used to be.

I hate that it takes so much energy for me to be “normal.”

I hate that this is my life. Their life.