Ashton as a scout at the pinewood derby
I was angry today. Angry with this grief that runs my life and seems to hold me back. It’s holding me back from the things I want to do.
I used to love to cook for my family. Now I can barely get a simple breakfast made. It’s too much for me. I used to love to make bread. I want to send some bread to my son on a mission in Spokane. If I send it priority mail during the winter, he can get it in two days and it’s still good. I just can’t do that anymore.
I have a quilt I want to make for my daughter and Christmas stockings to finish for my new granddaughters. I can’t do it.
I used to love to read. There’s a series of culinary mysteries I used to love. I can’t read them anymore. I can’t handle dead bodies or guns anymore. I can’t even concentrate to get through a chapter if I really try. I can’t even make it through a simple children’s novel.
I want to go outside and walk down Sybil Road like I used to do but I can’t handle running into people and pretending everything is wonderful.
I can’t even teach a class at church. I’ve been asked to. I tell them yes hoping I can do it and have to call them back to tell them I can’t. It’s too vulnerable a situation for me right now. I can’t handle the thought of losing it while I’m up there and not being able to get out of the situation.
I want to start going to my yoga class again, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t handle the thought of losing it in front of everyone there. Physical exertion seems to bring me to tears. It makes me cry. I know its a good thing and it needs to come out, but I can’t do that there yet.
I’ve written about what I can’t do. There has to be some things that I can still do…. What are they…..? Thinking…. OK…
I can still get up in the morning.
I can still get my laundry done.
I can keep my houseplants alive. I have a poinsettia that someone gave me for Christmas that is still thriving.
I can still love on my grandchildren. I did it today. It was my happiness for the day.
I can cherish and be grateful for my family. My good husband, my children and grandchildren who bring me so much joy. My parents who are so kind and helpful. My sisters and my good brother… I love them so much. They are my best friends.
I can still pray. I still want to pray. I talk to my Heavenly Father quite often during the day.
I still have hope that things will get better and easier. I hear stories of other people’s grief journeys and they say that it gets better and easier. That gives me hope.
I can still take care of my chickens. (By the way, I have a rooster that needs to find another home. Ha! He and I don’t get along. He’s not my friend. He’s beautiful as far as roosters go.. but I don’t like him. He’s mean. I need happiness in my back yard. He’s not a contributor to that. Any takers? He would probably make some great chicken soup, but I’m not up to that. I’m serious!)
There…. I feel a little better.
Yes, that’s real life for me today. I don’t always feel like this. Today was just too much for me to take. The calmer side of me is tempted to apologize for writing this, but I’m not going to. Sometimes pretending everything is Ok is too hard. I know I don’t have the corner on down days. There are many people on the earth who are grieving. If you are having a down day, I pray that you can feel the Lord’s blessing of peace and comfort. I know he can do that. He has promised that He will not leave us comfortless. I know He keeps His promises.
Miss you, Ash….
Written by Faye on April 9, 2015
Thank you Carter and Faye for sharing such deep feelings. You are very brave; I know I have been led for many reasons to read your story and your thoughts.
I hope our writings are helpful for you, Linda. Thanks for your comment.
You forgot (at least) this: You can still be a wonderful, kind and loving friend. You are that and more to me Faye. You’re always telling me that God has big shoulders and He understands. Go ahead and be angry….go ahead and vent. Get it out. It doesn’t mean you live there. Even Jesus got angry (Mathew 21:12-13)
Love you Vikki ! You are a good positive influence for me. You always have been!
Faye, you are so precious! I love that you are willing to share your innermost feelings with others who grieve. Even in the midst of your grief you have a sense of humor and model a time tested piece of wisdom – even a few moments of focus on what we can do instead of what we can’t, or what we have instead of what we don’t will always bring a bit of relief. Notice those moments of joy and keep them for future reference. You are an inspiration to many. Sending love and hugs your way.
I love your advice, Valerie. Thanks for pointing out some things I’m doing right. In my jumbled mind right now, sometimes I can’t see them. It’s great to hear from you!
I want to thank you with all my heart for your realness and vulnerability to speak your truth. I feel that these kind of posts are important to give others permission to be real and experience their real emotions in painful times and keep their faith. I’m finding that both sets of emotions the tears, the sadness and the faith and positivity have their time and place and it looks so different for everyone. Thank you for that permission. You are blessing more lives than you know by sharing your thoughts and testimony. Thank you
Thank you Dana. Your comments here are so helpful to us.
Faye, It helps so much to read your real experiences with grief. There are many who grieve. Sometimes we don’t even know all the reasons why. It does not often show on the outside. It is like in the hymn, the line “in the quiet heart is hidden sorrow that the eye can’t see.” Through the years, I have compared myself many times to others and the many things they seem to have space to do. I have wondered why things that seem to come so easy for so many others to do are often hard for me. But then, I know there are things that come easier for me, the things that are my gifts that don’t come so easy for others. One of the things I grieve over is my kids leaving the nest. It has bought a heaviness to my chest and throat that has been so difficult! For a long while, it was even affecting my breathing. Over time, that part is thankfully getting better. I grieve over all the things I was going to do better, all the missed opportunities to do more with my kids but we ran out of time. Because of the grief, I take time to rest and cry. Crying helps. It seems very emotionally cleansing. I see so many others who just take it all in stride when their kids leave home and grow up. Over time, I am coming to terms with it, thankfully, but I still find myself without much space to want to accomplish details that ordinarily come second nature for most home makers. One thing that has helped me is finding out I am not alone. Your writing helps me feel less alone and to drop some of my perfectionism. Thankfully, I have many treasures that have helped me which I am so thankful for. I know that the Lord brings us the people and resources we need to get through. We don’t always know why we have some of the heavy burdens we carry that we are predisposed to, perhaps greater sensitivity or illnesses of various kinds. I appreciate your courage to share your realness. It does lighten burdens. You are helping good things happen as a result of an utterly tragic happening. I love you, Faye! Thanks, my friend!
Thank you for you comments, Janise. Before this experience with Ashton, I had no idea what grief felt like. Now I am enveloped in it and am finding that many many people know this same feeling, this grief. We have felt a huge need to reach them, talk about it, and let them know they are not alone. I am sorry you have cause to feel this way. I do know every person’s grief is different but each person’s grief is hard for them. Bless you as you travel this journey too in your own way.
I found your blog through my cousin and have been working my way through each post this morning. I finally had to comment on this particular one. My 20 year old son died two days before Christmas just over four months ago. My husband and three girls and I have strong testimonies. We know where Jordan is. We know he is “fully perfect and finally free at last” (these words from president Holland’s talk are on Jordan’s headstone.) We have faith. People always comment on our faith and hope and how we inspire them. I am grateful to have this impact. Sometimes knowing we have that impact on others feels like a big responsibility. This is why this particular post spoke to me. I found myself nodding in agreement with everything you can no longer do. When people comment on how well I’m doing and how “inspiring” I am, there is a voice in the back of my head that wants to scream out, “if you only knew…” Followed by all the things I’m not doing right. I can account on one hand the number of meals I’ve cooked since Jordan died. We have lived in our new house for two months and I can’t unpack, let alone decorate. I haven’t been to the gym since Jordan died. The list feels so long.
It was a relief to read this post. Not so much because I can completely relate to you, but because you reminded me to reflect on what I can still do, and it is much.
Thank you for this gift today.
Thank you SO MUCH for your comments Kristin. This is one post I needed comments on, especially yours. I write a lot of things, some get posted here and some don’t. There are some things I have to wait and think about if I should really post it. This post was one of those. Though it was more emotional and raw than my usual posts, I still felt like I should post it. It was hard to push that “publish’ button but I knew I needed to. I know now that you and a few others are why I posted it. We also get told that we are strong and I too want to scream out, ” We are really trying, but you have no idea!!!” I completely understand where you are right now. You are grieving normally. You will not always feel this way. I am actually starting to cook a little more and do more things in the kitchen now. I do what I can… I hope your husband and family are patient and loving with you. I’m sure your husband is grieving differently than you. We are just about 1 year ahead of you in this grieving process. Bless you, bless you …. and please be gentle with yourself. ~ Faye