ah. this grieving thing, it’s certainly a roller coaster. a very bumpy one.
**I’m trying to be more transparent, more open about my feelings and shortcomings. I’ve been told that I can come across as perfect, as all put together. But I’m not, I’m imperfect and flawed and struggle. And I think that only in being honest and open can we truly help one another. That’s the only way we can grow and bond. So here’s a little open honesty for you.**
I can happily say that I have more good days than bad now. But honestly, the number of bad days still surprises me. I don’t go a single day that I don’t think of Job, and what our lives would be like with him. There’s not a moment that I don’t miss him and ache to hold him. There’s so many things that remind me, that spark the memory of what it should be. What I wish it was.
But most days, I can take a deep breath, send up a prayer for strength, and focus on being thankful for the amazing things I do have.
But not everyday. Every once in a while, it feels as though I just lost him yesterday. The pain is fresh and deep and still so heartbreaking. And it knocks me down completely.
That’s when I find myself awake, alone, in the middle of the night, crying out to my Savior for some comfort, any peace. And do you know what usually works?
I have this box. I bought it just to hold my memories of Job. It’s small, and doesn’t hold many things, but it holds every single card or letter we received.
And so I sit, sort through the few things that mark his tiny life, and read every word of every card. I think about the prayers that those friends and family said over us, about the time they took to pick out a meaningful card, about the loving, encouraging, and comforting words they wrote. And I can almost feel the arms of every one of them hugging me. I can see their faces and feel their love.
Julie, at Joy’s Hope, asked for advice and then wrote an amazing blog about What to do and say when a friend loses a baby. It’s beautiful, please read it when you get the chance. In an earlier post over on her own website she asked for advice and personal experiences. And as I sat down to respond, I found that all I could think about, all I could remember, were the well-intentioned yet hurtful comments. The ones that belittled my loss and tried to explain it away. I found that it was hard for me to think of what I would tell people TO do. I could only think of what they shouldn’t do or say.
It’s amazing how much those few poorly worded, hurtful responses stick out so much in my mind when I have a box full of over 50 cards and letters that did just the opposite.
So tonight, I am letting myself feel the pain and the loss as I immerse myself in the blessings that are my family and friends. I am allowing my loving God to show Himself to me through them, through their words.
If you want to read more about Job’s story, click here.