Slowly moving forward

I had lunch yesterday with a man who told me that he had suffered the death of his wife from cancer.  We both started to tear up.  "When did it happen?", I asked.  "Fifteen years ago..." was the answer.

I have come to learn that our grief stays with us.  Never leaves us.  Things will never be the same again but they can be -- and that new "being" can become a new "normal" -- but the grief is something not cast off -- it will be a constant companion.  And in his case, even when he remarried eight years afterwards.

He told me that he was surprised that his grief came to the surface as fast as it did.  He had not thought about it for some time -- and now here it is -- right there in jfront of us!

I am approaching the holidays of Thanksgiving and Christmas with a certain amount of trepidation.  This year I don't feel the excitement I usually feel at this time of year.  It will be different this year.

Daughter Yumi is back in Afghanistan after her bereavement leave.  God-willing, she will return in February or March when her unit's tour ends.  Fear and grief are closely related.

This morning on public radio's "Story Corps" there was an account from Vietnam.  The soldier telling the story was assigned to a "graves registration unit" which meant he processed the bodies of soldiers who were killed in action.  He said he didn't have nightmares about it -- just "day-mares" in which he thinks and grieves about those young men every day; even after nearly forty years have passed.

I don't think we know much about grief except that it happens and it happens in different ways to different people.  I had a dream last night in which all my anger came pouring out about Matthew's death and toward a person I believe contributed to his death.  It was ugly and angry.  And yet in my mind I know that going the "blame-route" will not help me nor anyone else in the family.  I can't go there and I find myself refusing to do so (except strangely in a dream?).

Thanksgiving and Christmas are coming.  They are times for family -- for the living, those of us left behind to heal and for this family to continue its path of restoration.  This morning Psalm 132 was scheduled to be read during my meditations.  The first verse struck me -- it was my prayer: "O God, remember David, remember all his troubles!"

That's my prayer, God.  Remember my troubles -- as I remember you, my heart for you, and your promises to me and others who remain faithful in spite of our troubles!