I have discovered my grief hangs on my frame heavier than any extra weight from eating. It makes me tired, not want to exercise, and brings the desire to drink a lot. In talking to my sister tonight, I had to acknowledge that I shy away from too much thought about this change being permanent. She said the same thing. Perhaps it is true for all of us. That we allow ourselves only to touch on uncomfortable thoughts for brief moments in time. I know the few times I have allowed more time than that have brought sobbing.
I feel like a little kid again and want to go around proclaiming, "It's not fair." It is the normal order of life and more than fair for my Mom but it isn't fair to me. I wonder if Jesus ever complained to his father that it wasn't fair what he was having to do. If he had any human moments I think he would have had to. Look at all he endured for no other reason than he loved us. I hope Mom is dancing with him tomorrow. She always loved line dancing. She was really bad at it. Her rhythm was a little off but her enthusiasm was high. I'm just missing that enthusiasm and wry sense of humor in mine. Part of the family is gathering together tomorrow. It will never be the whole family again. But I guess for Mom it was no longer the whole family once her Dad died. Generations on generations of loss with none of us truly understanding until we lose the ones most important to us. I believe this is where our faith becomes a crucial part of survival.
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