Take a moment to recall the last time you drove on a thick and foggy morning. For my fellow Oregonians, this is what most every morning looks like to us. Driving in the fog can be undependable and weary at times. There are breaks in the fog, when the road looks clear... and others where you're white knuckling the steering wheel and just doing your best to keep your eyes on the dotted line. As I was driving Lulu to preschool this morning, I found myself in this very fog... physically, mentally and emotionally.
This past week has been really tough... like can't get out of bed tough. I am overwhelmed. I am sad, frustrated and overwhelmed. I am grieving.
The days have become longer and more difficult as Zoe's 2nd birthday approaches this Friday, April 11th. It just doesn't get easier, does it? I can't help but think of what it would be like if she were still here. My 2 and 5 year old daughters would be in matching Easter dresses and doing egg hunts together. There would be two filled baskets on Easter morning, instead of just one. My heart wouldn't know this continuous ache and I would feel "normal."
Last Friday, I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't pretend like everything was okay. I didn't want to pretend like I could do it all any longer. I stayed in bed catching up on my shows, crying and torturing myself with pictures of Zoe. Andrew got Lulu to school and brought me treats. He had a massage scheduled that day for himself and even called to have it transferred over to me. At least that got me to take a shower. After one of the best massages I've ever had, I couldn't help but crawl back into bed for more shows, crying and pictures. This whole time, Andrew never once tried to fix me. He just let me be me without feeling completely crazy and out of control.
Later that evening, we visited Zoe and replaced the Valentine's Day decor with Easter decorations that my mom had left for Zoe before going on their mission to Guatemala. It made me feel better to see all of the beautiful Spring colors and sun shining brightly. It was there that I started to feel a break in the fog.
Griefs journey never ends. It continues to humble and teach me that I cannot do it alone and that I don't ever have to. Listening to General Conference this past weekend could not have come at a more needed time. The messages from our Prophet and Apostles fed my soul with the hope and encouragement that I needed.
The fog is still grey but I'm taking it one morning at a time...
2 comments:
It doesn't get any easier. You just get more used to it. I'm sorry it's been a foggy week. I'll be thinking of you this week and especially on April 11! Hoping you'll feel your sweet Zoe near!
How true. It doesn't get easier - but it does however shift and change. I frequently think of it like the ocean. Some days we wade through the shallows, it laps at our feet and we feel it's cold sting on our toes. Sometimes its tide is so far out we can see it and we know it is there yet it doesn't quite reach us and others it is a strong undertow that pulls us down, consumes us and seems to swallow us whole. However there are always people who will hold your hand and splash in the shallows with you, will be there to watch the tide roll out and they will be there to grab your hand and be your life vest a promise that you will not go under.
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