“Sometimes I think that happiness is over for me. I look at photos of the past and immediately comes the thought that’s when we were still happy. But I can still laugh, so I guess that isn’t quite it. Perhaps what’s over is happiness as the fundamental tone of my existence. Now sorrow is that. Sorrow is no longer the islands but the sea.” (Nicholas Wolterstorff, Lament for a Son).
I wonder how far along Mr. Wolterstorff was when he wrote that statement. Ever since Devastation Day, I confess I am coming to the conclusion that I will live out the rest of my life covered or overshadowed by sorrow. Happy is not on my radar. It feels unattainable.
I need to release the grief poison, so here I am posting again … will it always hurt this much? I keep feeling pushed to release these thoughts even though I cry with every word I write. Is sharing my pain helping me? I don’t know. Nothing makes sense to me.
Why am I spiraling? Is it the time frame where I am into this nightmare or is it the holidays which have pushed me to a new low? Seems I am always on the brink of tears. EVERYTHING makes me cry but then I switch gears and I may be ok for an hour or so? It’s even hard for me to keep up with myself! Some may chalk my sorrow up to depression but there is something in grief which keeps me functioning. Yes, I continue to self coach myself out of bed each day despite not wanting to walk out of my front door.
It all starts within seconds after I wake up each day. How can it hit me the same way every single morning? No seriously, how? And then I see something which reminds me of Amy, or I look at the closed door to her room, or I hear someone mention their child, or something happens that I want to share with her … How can others not get how difficult the world is now?
Every day on my way to work, I find I want to turn around and go home so I can cry freely. I have mini crying episodes frequently during the course of the day, regardless of where I am, because there is no controlling my tears. Today I found it difficult to speak because I was in so much pain so I tried to keep a low profile which is quite a challenge when you are among so many people.
I find when I look up at the stars, I want to weep because the night sky looks so beautiful and tranquil. Doesn’t the sky and the stars know that Amy died?
Today, I overheard a woman being so mean to her child and I wanted to scream at her … Don’t you know your child could die before you? Please be kind. Then I wondered, did I ever behave that way in public or even privately? I don’t think so but I found myself closing my eyes and begging for forgiveness for any time I unintentionally hurt one of my children. Believe me, Amy and I went round and round at times, but never do I remember humiliating her.
Maybe tomorrow will be a little easier than today. Maybe … Or maybe not. Grief is unpredictable and relentless. There is no way to stop it or escape it. It is the consequence of loving someone so deeply. Makes perfect sense to me that I would be grieving this hard because I sure love Amy.
Always remembering Amy.