Sometimes sadness gives way to success, if you want to call it that. I can think of several gals who, after experiencing or currently experiencing really super hard things, started writing about it and became internet-famous. I remember praying once that I would be okay with a lifetime of mediocre blogging if it meant I didn’t have to experience the things those gals have had to. Because I’m super deep like that.
As it turns out, I have nothing to worry about. For me, sadness simply gives way. It dries me up. It takes me to a dark, lonely place where, even if there are people out there who understand and maybe want to walk me through it, I simply do not want to go there and thus I don’t.
I just looked back at my blog. The last post was April 8 and the post before that January 28. Prior to this year, it could be said I spent too much time on my blog. And now: nothing.
January ushered in a six-week period of hell in my heart. Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis is just such a terrible thing and no words can adequately describe how it feels to watch someone you love experience the devastation of that. When my mom died in February, I knew it was coming, so I felt like I should have been a little more prepared. People lose their parents every day, right? But I don’t. I hadn’t. And then suddenly I did and in truth, I wasn’t ready for it and I’m still angry about it. And it’s been almost six months. So six months shouldn’t still be preventing someone from writing about it, talking about it, crying about it, right? But there is a place deep inside me that feels like I used up all of my grief capital with people ages ago and I should really move on now.
Likewise, our foster care story turned the page into a really sad chapter in February as well. And as it happened during the same month of caring for my mom during her last days, we just closed the foster care book for a while. For almost six months.
Next week we open it back up again and add two babies to the chaos of our lives and I must say, it doesn’t feel nearly as romantic as it did the first time we welcomed a new child into our home for a short stay. Our experiences with the system have tainted me, frightened me, and made me second-guess our involvement altogether.
And yet, here we go. Life is just incessant in its constant ready-or-not-here-I-come railroading of my existence.
But then, what would it be if we just stayed in the same place forever?
I imagine…it would be death.
Half-Pint House 
Thanks for sharing a little bit of yourself tonight. After an 18-month illness my dad passed away in 1997. I was in college. That was 17 years ago. The stuff you wrote about grieving? That’s b.s. 🙂
“When my mom died in February, I knew it was coming, so I felt like I should have been a little more prepared. People lose their parents every day, right?”
Nope, a person loses a mom exactly once in their lifetime. It happens frequently to different people but it is not true that people lose parents every day. Besides, even if they did… who cares? You are not everyone.
“But I don’t. I hadn’t. And then suddenly I did and in truth, I wasn’t ready for it and I’m still angry about it. And it’s been almost six months. So six months shouldn’t still be preventing someone from writing about it, talking about it, crying about it, right? But there is a place deep inside me that feels like I used up all of my grief capital with people ages ago and I should really move on now.”
Let me frankly say that if you think you have used up all your grief capital with a “friend” then they aren’t a now-friend. I say “now-friend” because truly I am being nice. Giving them the benefit of the doubt that they have their own messed up enough life that they can’t handle your truth RIGHT NOW. That doesn’t mean you won’t reconnect eventually but bull-oney if I am going to sit around being happy just for your benefit when I am wasting away inside.
17 years. That is how long since my dad died. I never forget the day. I always remember. Sometimes I will tell a friend. Sometimes I just have to say out loud how much I miss him and love him. And if someone isn’t man or woman enough to hear it, then they have some serious problems. I don’t need to be fawned over, just listened to.
Anyway it is late and I may not be making much sense… but I truly believe there is only ONE rule when it comes to grief: There are no rules. Xoxoxo
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Thank you for cracking the door, Megan. I won’t say I understand like only one who has walked through it can understand, I can only imagine the sadness that will creep in. But I do agree that you don’t use up your grief capital with true friends. And certainly never with God. A word I was so thankful to receive yesterday by way of reminder: morning by morning your mercies are new, great is your faithfulness. Love you my friend.
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thanks for writing megan. you are so right…ALS is grisley. there is no way to get around it. so is death…whether you are warned ahead or not.
and those people who talk about “moving on” after death haven’t lost people close to them…
logic and grief to not live in the same house together. i have always tried to talk logic to myself about my feelings. at times it helped. but when my dad dropped dead at the age of 54 of a heart attack with no warning? no logic in the world helped. it didn’t really even help that he was in heaven…if i can say that without every christian in the room reacting in horror to hear it!
all i wanted was one last conversation with him. one last hug. one “good-bye.” it is now 41 years later almost…and on some level, i still would love the same thing!
i’m not sure we can “prepare” for this kind of loss. it leaves a huge gaping hole in our lives…even if we haven’t live near our family for years.
does GOD offer comfort? yes. does He use His people to offer comfort? yes. But grief is big. It doesn’t go away quickly. it leaves its mark on us in deep places. and we never fully get over it.
that is not a bad thing. sort of reminds me of the velveteen rabbit…only it happens to your heart.
you are loved megan. and i so love your vulnerable spirit. it touches us.
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Thanks for sharing I’m working through the 6 month anniversary of our precious little angel, Russell’s entrance to heaven as well. I have no easy answers. My trust in God, although some might see as misguided, is all that gets me through. I’m spending the weekend writing about my short journey with Russell. It’s been scary to revisit some of the darkest days of my life but somehow the writing is helping in the healing. Some day I want to get to the point where I can smile when I remember him but I’m just not there yet. The memories only trigger the deep sense of loss I feel.
Life definitely moves on whether we’re ready for it or not which is probably good because living in a state of sadness saps all we have to give. My biggest “takeaway” from all we have gone through is to cherish the moments with those you love. Life, like a fragile vapor is gone too quickly but there are moments of love, gifts along the way that remind us that God is right there in the midst.
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