I can't figure out if continuing to blog is like picking a scab or lancing a boil. [Equally gross analogies.] Or to put it another way.. Is this helping or hurting? Most blog entries come complete with a pretty decent cry on my side. I wonder if I would explode from the pressure or if it would just harmlessly evaporate? Where would the thoughts that end up on this blog land otherwise?
October reminds me of Dad. Mom and Dad close on the house Monday, Dad has chest pains and goes into the hospital Tuesday and has a quadruple bypass Wednesday morning. On the operating table, Dad has a stroke and the next few months are a new adventure in terror. I can spend the rest of my life not seeing High Point Regional, Wesley Long or Moses Cone Hospital and be perfectly happy.
I always described Dad dying like standing on 2 boxes and having someone kick one out from under you. You could still keep dry, you were a little wobbly, but you still had a box to stand on.
Why can't I get past this? Why can't I get over this? Why does this still hurt? Why do I still cry? Why can't I just be big?
1 comment:
Again, I BEG you to read Comfort. I will personally bring it to you and read it aloud to you if necessary.
I would guess that the blogging tears are cathartic and an important part of healing a wound that will never really heal. Maybe someday it will be a slightly ugly scar instead of the infected, oozing thing it is now. (See, I can be gross too!)
Maybe someday you will be blogging about something funny that happens to Zach at college and you will be giggling instead of crying. And you will think, you know, I can experience joy.
From Comfort...a rabbi tells Ann Hood that there is a reason for the 23rd Psalm being written as it is:
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;
It doesn't say to:
walk around the valley
run across the valley
rise above the valley
fly over the valley
You have to walk through it...no matter how long it takes, no matter how much your feet hurt, no matter how many times you fall down and have to get back up.
I really don't know that much personally about grief...but my friend Amy does and I have seen her walk through that valley and have never loved and respected her more.
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