Today, I am despondent.
Some days I feel almost alright, some days horrible, and everything in between. Even at night, I often wake in anxiousness and sadness…
There are days like today when I am so heavyhearted its difficult to function in everyday tasks. But I must. There are chores to be done and other children to love.
I’m trudging on. I want to close the blinds crawl in bed and exit from life for a while. Even from my own family. Grief is strange. Some moments I want to smother the children with love and cuddles which I cannot give Andrew. Other times, I want to be far away from them because their demands are too much for my soul and my body (I am still so incredibly exhausted and weak) right now. There are moments now when the tears have dried. At least, for some of the day. And when the tears dry up, I feel emptied out. There’s nothing left to feel at all.
I guess my feelings are so raw and so tumultuous; the wound so fresh, that the only reprieve is silence from them. Just a breath of not feeling anything. And then I feel checked out. Most of the time I cannot make sense of my own heart. There are so many different feelings and sometimes all at once. I feel that I’ve hit rock bottom but I have yet to reach upward for The Hand that I know is there waiting for me to grasp.
Is it because I know I need this process? Have I pushed Him away and built another wall because of the pain He has allowed me to feel? I am angry at myself because I think of the million ways its MY fault that God allowed this. The million ways I have failed. I know in my head the Truth and that all have fallen short and yet my heart does not feel it.
So I know I must go on. I must keep going. I must keep pouring out that which I do not have within me to give.
It seems while He is there to comfort me; there is still silence to my questions. It brings me some reconciliation to think of Andrew’s peaceful face and perfect little form-fingers, toes, mouth and all-with Jesus. I know He can somehow give him the love from my heart and tell him it’s from his mommy. Somehow, knowing that Andrew is being taken care of-that Jesus is holding him instead of me-is okay. Even though I don’t know why and my heart screams to have him here with me, I have no choice but to take peace in that image in my head.
I realize there is nothing else to do but make myself get up again today and put one foot in front of the other…