Grieving

Sunday ended up being a hard day for me. Someone said something in the discussion in our Sunday morning class that hit me the wrong way and I had to fight tears for a bit there -- just missing Daddy. Thankfully, I had nursery duty that day and the Lord was good enough to provide lots of busy babies to distract me. Then there was a song we sang that evening worship, and I was fighting tears again. I thought I was okay then until we went to bed. Hubby had just fallen asleep when I slowly lost the battle and had a good cry. I think its strange how it just hits me like that. I'm strolling along doing well and then, BAM, it's all I can do not to crumble.

I am glad that I don't feel angry or bitter at losing him. I know there's a reason and it's a good one because it's God's reason. But I want to be on the other side of this, missing him with good memories and laughing at silly things he did.

I remember when he was in the hospital and it wasn't looking good that I kept thinking I was on one painful mountain top and I wanted to be on the one that I could see in the distance -- the one with good memories and laughing at silly things he did. The problem was that in order to get to the other one I had to climb down this one and go through a deep dark valley that was cold, scary and lonely. That was the part I didn't want to do but some invisible hand kept pushing me toward it.

I thought maybe I was already climbing up the other mountain but I think the rocks must be loose because I slid right back down to the edge of the valley.

I guess now I'll have to grab another handhold and pull myself up a little again.