Funny thing about storms, they can pop up suddenly, they can be brief or last for a while, they can be torrential or very mild. Usually though, you can sense them coming. The changing of the quality of light before a storm, the gathering of the clouds, the change in temperature, the scent of rain on the horizon, and let's not forget the change in pressure. Sadness and grief fit this pattern too. I have pictures that I took at mom's house the day she passed away. Some of the family were standing outside in the front yard watching a fairly large summer storm roll in. I have vivid memories of that gathering.
There's a storm on the horizon, the pressure's been building up for some time now, I can't yet tell what the intensity will be, but there have been a couple of rather intense squalls in the last few days.
My niece Audrey had this to say in a recent blog: (thoughts on sadness)
I read somewhere that grief doesn't need to be healed. It is, itself, the healing. Furthermore, it's not something you get over. It's something you get through. And the grief may subside, but the sadness will be there forever. You will never not miss the people you've lost.
Pretty sharp kiddo, pretty sharp. I don't know exactly how long, I can say in the last 38 years, but perhaps in as long as 55 years this is the first christmas that won't be at "home". It hasn't always been the same, and we haven't been able to get everybody together every year, and for that reason; over the years each christmas has been a little bit different from the last. I don't think that I have the words to describe it but if you are part of this family you understand what I mean by the word "home". And I think you'll understand what I mean when I say christmas won't be at "home" this year. Every home has a foundation, and this one is particulary strong. The foundation still exists, but the builders of the foundation have moved on to bigger and better things. Mom and Dad, having taught us what "home" really means, have gone on to their Heavenly home.
There's a storm on the horizon. These are the clouds that make up that storm: christmas, home, mom and dad (of course), family, etc. On top of all of that, this year my kids will be with their mother on christmas day (early) and I will wake up at home alone. Another first. So at lunch today Tandy and I were discussing what to do, she'll bring lunch over and so on. Well, I've always had lunch at mom's for christmas, always, so.......the clouds start to gather. She says that Elizabeth wants to make some cookies too and my first thought is chocolate crackles and that mom won't be making me any this year, and the clouds burst open. That was the end of lunch for me today.
The healing is a learning process too. For example, "cookies" is apparently now a keyword, a grief trigger, and I'll have to take care to be aware of that from now on. I'll be sure to add it to the already long list of sights, sounds, smells, words, and thoughts that trigger strong memory. Soon the storm will wane and then, finally, cease for a time. When it does I'll be a little bit stronger, a little wiser, and I'll be at peace. I miss you mom and dad.
With many tears of sadness and joy,
Craig
There's a storm on the horizon, the pressure's been building up for some time now, I can't yet tell what the intensity will be, but there have been a couple of rather intense squalls in the last few days.
My niece Audrey had this to say in a recent blog: (thoughts on sadness)
I read somewhere that grief doesn't need to be healed. It is, itself, the healing. Furthermore, it's not something you get over. It's something you get through. And the grief may subside, but the sadness will be there forever. You will never not miss the people you've lost.
Pretty sharp kiddo, pretty sharp. I don't know exactly how long, I can say in the last 38 years, but perhaps in as long as 55 years this is the first christmas that won't be at "home". It hasn't always been the same, and we haven't been able to get everybody together every year, and for that reason; over the years each christmas has been a little bit different from the last. I don't think that I have the words to describe it but if you are part of this family you understand what I mean by the word "home". And I think you'll understand what I mean when I say christmas won't be at "home" this year. Every home has a foundation, and this one is particulary strong. The foundation still exists, but the builders of the foundation have moved on to bigger and better things. Mom and Dad, having taught us what "home" really means, have gone on to their Heavenly home.
There's a storm on the horizon. These are the clouds that make up that storm: christmas, home, mom and dad (of course), family, etc. On top of all of that, this year my kids will be with their mother on christmas day (early) and I will wake up at home alone. Another first. So at lunch today Tandy and I were discussing what to do, she'll bring lunch over and so on. Well, I've always had lunch at mom's for christmas, always, so.......the clouds start to gather. She says that Elizabeth wants to make some cookies too and my first thought is chocolate crackles and that mom won't be making me any this year, and the clouds burst open. That was the end of lunch for me today.
The healing is a learning process too. For example, "cookies" is apparently now a keyword, a grief trigger, and I'll have to take care to be aware of that from now on. I'll be sure to add it to the already long list of sights, sounds, smells, words, and thoughts that trigger strong memory. Soon the storm will wane and then, finally, cease for a time. When it does I'll be a little bit stronger, a little wiser, and I'll be at peace. I miss you mom and dad.
With many tears of sadness and joy,
Craig
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