When does grief every complete it’s coarse, or does it? I’m less than 4 weeks before it will be 8
years and I honestly do not feel like I’ve come very far. I still feel so empty in my heart and
soul. While I know he was on loan from
God and I was blessed to have 22 years with him, but I wasn’t ready for my time
with him to end and I’m still not. I don’t
question why, I just miss him.
I’m so fortunate to have the husband I do and the family and
friends surrounding me, but you know, sometimes I just need my little man. I can’t explain the kind of pain I feel in my
heart on a regular basis. It literally
feels like what I would imagine a heart attack to feel like. It is true pain at times. I wouldn’t fight if God allowed me to have a
heart attack if it would get me to heaven sooner to see him.
Each year I think, okay, this is the year I will be able to
just be home at Christmas and spend it with family and then I hit October and I’m
like, nope, it can’t be this year. I’m
not there yet. I don’t know if I will
ever be there. I struggle with whether I
need to just suck it up and move forward, but honestly, it’s like my heart
aches so badly that I can’t bear the thought of “celebrating” or even being
home during that time.
December and May are obviously my hardest months, but there
are very few days in my life now that my heart doesn’t ache like this. Every moment I am breathing I am missing such
a huge part of my heart and soul, but I’ve managed most times to push all that
down deep and function and then there are times when all I want to do is cry
and be alone in the quiet.
I do not believe grief ever ends. I think it changes, but I believe, for me
anyway, that grief will always be a part of my everyday life until the Lord
decides he is ready for me.
What I do want to make sure I’m not doing is letting others
see my grief daily and make sure that when they see me grief isn’t the first
thing they see. I don’t know how well I do
this or if I do it at all, but I do feel I try daily.
If only we could go to heaven for visits.
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