This week has been a rough one. I mentioned Charlie's grief journey over the weekend. This time it is Kate's turn. A few emotional outbursts on Monday (over chores, of all things) led me to know that Kate knows more about her daddy's death than I realized - and she is angry. Hurt and angry. So I began the tough job of praying over what words and explanations she needs from me to understand and heal. It has been an emotionally draining (and stressful) process for me - I am so full of fear that I will say the wrong thing or hurt my children more. But they need truth to heal. And they need God's unwavering love breathed into their grieving souls right now. I have shared with my Kate, now I leave it in God's hands to mend her broken heart and comfort her as she processes a new reality.
I have told my children that it is okay to not be okay. Right now I am okay, but I am not everyday. Some days my emotions run wild and I feel as though I was thrown back to June, sometimes just for a fleeting moment and other times it lasts a bit longer. Waves that take me backward, just when I had hoped I was possibly going forward. Back to the month that shattered the world as I knew it. That day I was not okay. That day I felt defeated. That day I was exhausted. Every day is spent wishing Ryan was here, but that day was much more than wishing. That day I felt beaten. My heart raced so fast and I wished it would just stop beating. Before June, I never could have imagined what it felt like to actually feel so much heartache that you long for the day it is all over. To know what it feels like to wake and wish I had never opened my eyes. That day I could not find my smile. That day I was simply existing in darkness and longing. That day I felt weak. Afraid of myself and terrified to be alone, that day I wanted to be rescued. That day I did not feel encouraging, that day I only felt empty. Parts of me forever missing because I miss out on him. That day I felt the need to confess to the world the chaotic mess in my mind, because I could not contain it inside of myself. It's a scary place. And my biggest heartache is the thought that my children may know that feeling, that day, I am describing. My mama heart wants so badly to protect them from that day.
There is a dark side to grief and sometimes the weight of carrying it alone at times gets far too heavy. My wish is that my children do not try to carry it alone. I know there are days that we crumble no matter how sturdy our walls may look. Days that we do not possess the strength and the fight to make it through alone. Days where we need someone to draw our sword for us and fight the battle with us. Days that the silence becomes to deafening but just the sound of another’s presence allows us to hear with clarity again. I pray that God's presence be that comfort to my children and that He will use me and others to reach out and just be "present" to the children carrying a bigger burden than anyone should. Days filled with grief are difficult. Not every day, but some days…
So if you are a precious friend who knows my Kate and Charlie, I ask that you please try to notice their pain. They may not reach out to you, but need you to reach out to them. Know that they are not always okay and it is okay for them to not be okay. Grief is all consuming. It does not end. Not after three months, or six months or a year. Grief will always be there. But, just like I have learned, my children need to know that the comfort of others is a blessing. That God uses others to share his love. And it is the rawest of hearts that are able to receive and absorb the most love.
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