Living Grief

It never really occurred to me that grief is a living thing.  It breathes in and out.  It moves within us and then move out of us only continuing to do so day after day.  Living grief knows no time.  It does not have a daily calendar or a clock hand moving and ticking seconds away.  It appears like the birth of a newborn baby and lives on until our own death silences it.  It lives as long as we live.

Two years ago when my husband passed away I thought I was strong and brave and able to face anything the Good Lord placed before me.  I was built of pioneer stock and had been ground in my faith in Jesus for close to 50 years.  I had always been able to roll with the punches and get back up.  Today I sit in my home day after day not wanting to see other faces or be a part of much of anything. Hiding at home is easier than facing the world or the people in the world.  

It was September when he died at the age of 81 after many years of medical issues.  His body could not take any more surgeries or drugs to fend off the severe Rheumatoid Arthritis.  The Lord called him home and I knew he was safe with Jesus.  For the next eight months until May when his Memorial Service would be held I made plans and bravely endured my first winter season alone along many trips to the woodshed to keep the woodstove he loved so much blazing away.  I endured and lived through a chimney fire with the help of the local fire department.  The big beautiful flowering golden chain tree blew down into the road and the neighbor had to push it with his tractor into the lawn.  But I made it through winter number one without my helpmate and husband and I did not burn down the house. Praise the Lord!

After the wonderful celebration of Jerry's life I knew it was time to move on.  But the big question was, "Move on to what?"  The children and grandchildren lived in other far away cities.  Most of my closest friends were married and working full time jobs. Leaving home to do errands was a chore.  Leaving home to go to church and sit alone was a chore.  Planning trips to see the children and the grandchildren was a chore.  Life alone was one big chore so I stayed home.  I called my home my sanctuary but it had really become my prison.  I told myself that keeping the house work done, paying the bills, reading books and watching movies, mowing the lawn and getting out of bed every day was enough for now.  The first year of his death came and went and the second winter brought 21 inches of snow at my home and 13 inches of snow on the beaches of Oregon Coast but no chimney fire.  Progress!

As I write this the second anniversary of Jerry's death is coming in a month.  Hardly anything has changed in the past year especially in my learning of the power of living grief.  I am not one to episodes of depression and I do not sit and cry for hours on end.  But is it depression when I still do not want to be around crowds of people?  Is it part of depression to not want to make the effort to get all cleaned up and go out to church or the grocery store?  Is depression learning to live alone at the age of 70?  Is it depression to think nothing is going to change for the rest of my life on earth?

I suppose living grief is a type of depression.  Though there are some joys that appear in each day it is a very quiet day when no other human being is in it. Jesus made it a point to be with others but he also went for periods of time into the wilderness to be alone.  He spent time with the Father seeking answers and speaking with Him. I wonder if he cried with anguish during some of those conversations?  I daily spend time in the word of God seeking answers and trying to gain wisdom into this new way of life. A life of living grief breathing in me. I want to hear what the Lord is speaking and I want to do His will for my life but I hold back the things I feel are still too uncomfortable to look at right now.  I have told others to look at me as they would a twenty-three month old child.  At 23 months the little toddler is just learning how to speak.  They still cannot dress themselves, many are not potty-trained. They still have a hard time eating with utensils but they have learned the word "NO".  Yes, I am a 23 month old child.

While I write this I continue to hear the Spirit of the Lord tell me that I am doing fine for this period of time in my new life of living grief.  He encourages me to keep moving, keep seeking, keep growing and keep watching.  Changes are taking place but it is a slow process of becoming a new me. At age 70 I feel it is okay to take it slow.

Psalms 46:10 (NIV)

He says, “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”