Lessons learned during new grief

Because writing is what always helps me process life and centers me, I've been throwing some thoughts down the last few days. Still not processing or centered, but I'm hoping these are the first steps.

LESSONS LEARNED

1.     You just can’t understand until you’re really in that spot.

2.     As I had read over the years, offers of “let me know if there is anything we can do for you”, while very well intentioned and from the heart, really aren’t helpful. I can’t even wrap my brain around what I really need right now. Do we have toilet paper? Have I eaten today? Can I decide what funeral songs are best by myself?

3.     At least now, knowing that he is with Jesus and that I will see him again one day is not making up for the fact that I am not seeing him now and miss him desperately.

4.     It is possible to simultaneously feel completely justified in my level of grief and also feel that I should be able to pull it together better than this. Also to need to be with people and need to be alone at the same time.

5.     I have the best husband on the planet.

6.     I raised great kids.

7.     My mom is awesome.

(I already knew the last three, but this has solidified the facts.)

8.     Guilt over even short moments of laughter and happiness is real.

9.     I am surprised how the littlest things at the oddest moments can bring the deepest grief. (For a split second, wondering if the ringing phone might be him. When talking with my kids, no longer having to distinguish whether I’m talking about my dad or their dad. Seeing his undelivered birth present on the table.)

10.  There are 9 million things to be done and decisions to be made between death and burial. And I’m assuming in the weeks after also.

11.  Some things you just can’t unsee. It’s like a permanent etching in my brain that flashes past my eyes at random and frequent moments.

12.  You don’t realize how many times you have to deal with giving the explanation “My dad died suddenly this week and …” to the bank and the utilities and the pension plan and etc etc etc and how each time it’s a fresh stab of pain.

13.  How you can pray and wish for the pain to go away and then, in the rare moments of exhaustion when the numbness sets in, wish for the pain to return because of the completely unexplainable void the numbness leaves.

14.  How, when you suddenly feel like the paralyzed man in the book of Luke that couldn’t get to Jesus himself, it is comforting to know that you have friends that carry you and lower you down through the roof to put you into the presence of Jesus. Thanks to everyone of you who has lifted me in prayer this week.