Grieving is Twisted (Part II)

In my mind it is expected that as time goes on, things would be better. The pain of grieving would decrease. After all, isn't there a saying that time heals all wounds? Oh what a fool I was to think that.

Many of you have expressed how strong I have been through all of this. With desperation I want you to know that the strength you see is not me. Never would I want someone to see my life and my grieving process and think that there is something wrong with them for not grieving in the same way. You need to know that everyone grieves differently, at different paces even.

What you need to know is that I still cry...daily...without fail. Even in the firm belief that Mario is in Heaven, is safe, is happy, and is way better off than I can imagine - I miss him. In the midst of an emotional moment this week I tweeted exactly what I felt as if it were a new discovery for me: "It is not in his death that I am sad. It's the inability to touch him, hold him, talk to him & laugh w/ him that is torturous." Truth.

And there it is. My new reality. A new reality that is hard to grasp, hard to make sense of. Sometimes reality hits at the strangest times. And sometimes as I stare reality in its face, it oddly feels like it is not reality at all. Things are still surreal.

Over the past six weeks I have tried to set the table for 5, instead of 4. I have had confusion when signing a birthday card to someone from our family and getting stuck when it would have been the place to write Mario's name - I simply didn't know what to do. I have tried to make arrangements for him to get a ride home as that would normally be the case in the scenario at the time. His supper was mentally planned multiple times because what we were having wouldn't be something he would want. My parents, Greg and I sat in silence, head bowed, holding hands, all waiting for Mario to say the prayer before supper like he always did - before realizing someone else was going to have to say it. I've headed to his bedroom to say hello to him when I got home from work, to say goodnight before going to bed, and to wake him up in the morning. I have put some of his favorite "standard" grocery items in the cart before realizing it - and put it back because no one else will eat it. The moments like these seem never-ending.

How twisted is the grieving process? Very.

• I feel as though I somehow need to be strong for everyone else. 
• I feel weak for crying...and even more so when the tears begin to flow without my permission or control.
• I don't want to talk about Mario's death because I don't want people to get tired of hearing about it and get irritated with me talking about it. But I think about it non-stop. 
• I want to hang pictures up of him that we received already framed...but don't want people to think I'm setting up some sort of a shrine or something. 
• I want to share stories about Mario often - and always have done that - but now find myself hesitating because again, I don't want people to think I'm completely obsessed and unable to move on.
• I want to wear the shirts that his friends at the high schools made to honor him - but don't want people to think I'm out for attention.
• I don't want people to think they need to be careful around me - but at the same time, I feel unbelievably fragile.
• I want to do his laundry but somehow feel like I'm being disrespectful to him for even considering moving it.
• We used his room for a staging area for the big furniture that was moved from the Champaign house but I couldn't help feeling guilty for using "his space" for that. 
• Everyone talks about the guilt and/or regret that so many people have who are in this type of situation. Thankfully, so far, I haven't experienced that at all - but I feel guilty for not feeling it. (I told you this was twisted...)
• And there's more, but I'll spare you. 

I used to say that I was living day by day. My new life requires me to live moment by moment. I have been learning that I have to give myself grace, even if others don't at some point. I have to be okay with not being okay - and mean it. My life is different now. I am searching for the new normal because the old normal will never be normal again. 

All of this and I have Christ in my life. Don't even think about what my life would be like without Him! When I said earlier that the strength you see is not me, I meant it. That is the truth. As for me? I'm a mess. But what God does with that mess has been nothing short of a miracle. What you see is Him, not me. Please hear that...read it again...let it sink in. When speaking at Mario's Celebration of Life, at some point, I went completely off what I had prepared. I had no idea what I said. Literally I had to watch the video to see what came out of my mouth. That was not me. 

So many people say it is my faith that has gotten me through and I thought that was true. But it is not. Craig Grochele said the other day, "Don't put your faith in your faith. Put your faith in God." Whoa. It puts a different spin on things doesn't it? So, that means that instead of "hanging on to our faith", we should be hanging on to God. It is in that belief of God that our faith is made real.

(Inserting a little extra commentary here - 2/23/2016 - the other thing I have heard multiple times is about how I must be mad at God for taking Mario. I'd like to debunk that by saying I am not mad at God, nor have I ever been. It may sound crazy but I am incredibly thankful that God was merciful. Merciful? Yes. He was merciful in that He took Mario on impact. All evidence points to an instant death, on impact from the blunt force trauma. How is that merciful? That means he didn't suffer. He wasn't laying there in pain like some thought happened...all alone...out in the middle of a cornfield (by the time the car stopped). The first responders that I had the honor of meeting shared with me that when they got there, Mario looked as if he was asleep. No fear on his face. No pain. Just peacefully asleep. In my mind, there are a thousand or more ways that this could have ended. If it must happen, I'd much rather it be quick and painless. That, to me, is a merciful God at work. I'm not mad. I'm thankful for His grace and mercy.)

As the grieving process continues - as I suspect it will for a long time, know that your continued prayers, love, and support in various ways has made a difference. Thank you for your friendships, patience and kind words, your hugs and your smiles, for checking in on us and for loving us right where we are...even in the midst of the twisted mangle called the grieving process...

#aintstressin

#missingyou