Be Not Afraid

A friend recently told that grief is unnatural for us because we weren't supposed to experience it, (see Genesis for further explanation). That totally hit home for me, because I think that's why I find myself in total shock at times. It is such an unnatural feeling and you don't get a timeout to process it. You're supposed to pick up your life and keep trucking. You're still expected to laugh at people's jokes and not cringe when someone says they're "dying" from same said joke. Like I've said before, I repeatedly want to push the pause button, and I can't. So how do you balance the need to grieve, but also make it through the work-day without crying on your keyboard? I haven't figured this out, but I know that it is normal. I think it is important to let yourself embrace the waves of grief when they come, because if you don't, those waves turn into a tsunami. I like to compare grief to weather because I think they both are ju

Some days the grief hits me harder than others. This Saturday was one of those days. There is some disbelief that remains that I need to navigate through. It's still so hard to believe that the last nine months happened. I feel like one morning I'll wake up and it really was all a bad nightmare. I look at her picture when I read my bible each night before I go to bed and I think every time that I can't believe that it's real. I have hand written prayers in there from her surgery, and her hard days that I feel like were written yesterday. I've asked God twice on really difficult days to send me a sign or something that would remind me of her or feel her somehow. I wanted to share how he answered my prayer on Saturday. My sister and brother-in-law came to visit us this weekend and we were out doing a little exploring. We were checking out this local handmade boutique when I found it. An ornament (pictured below) that not only has church sheet music on the ang

I miss her. I miss her every day. We didn't see each other every day, we only saw each other a few precious times a year, but we talked every day. So many trivial things I would share with her. I don't know how many times a day I still think, "I need to tell or ask Stephanie about that," and reach for my phone. For those first few seconds I have to relive her passing again. After the gut-punch, I've been finding myself whispering, "I just miss you so much, girl."  The void I feel is so deep and dark that it doesn't seem like this could be reality. I sometimes feel stuck by wanting a reprieve from these feelings, but then scared that if I take a break that it means I loved her less or something. Silly, I know. Another silly thing is the guilt I feel at times. I find myself genuinely happy, okay, or laughing and then the grief knocks and gnaws at me. "Is it okay to feel happy this soon?" I ask myself. I know this is ridiculous; Stephanie w

Let me rephrase that. People don't know how to handle OTHER people's grief. They're scared of it. They skirt around it, they avoid it, sometimes even belittle it. This is one thing I've observed through this whole experience. It's interesting to see the similarities and the differences in how people respond to your grief…and I'd be lying if I didn't say that I haven't gotten frustrated over some of these responses. I can hear my husband now saying, "They're just trying to help," and I know this, but it's still hard. One of the most common reactions is how people quickly try to relate to you. You can see their brain working to figure out some similarity between what you might be feeling to something they have previously felt. This is usually followed up with, "When my so and so died…" Don't get me wrong, I have done this too, but why? Why is that the automatic response? Trying to put my feelings in a uniform box ca

Grief.  I thought I knew what that word meant, but I didn't. Not until my best friend was diagnosed with brain cancer and died eight months later. Stephanie has been my best friend my entire life. My mom started babysitting her when she was six weeks old and me six months! Side note: Stephanie's mom found my mom in a newspaper listing. That’s how our friendship started, a newspaper listing. 😊 At the age of ten, Stephanie's dad got a job in Georgia and I'll never forget hugging my friend goodbye in the movie theater parking lot days before she moved. But, we remained friends. I remember writing her letters on my colorful fish stationary and getting so excited when I would receive a letter or a card back. Our friendship would survive nearly a dozen more moves and even more life changes. We were friends during her slight punk-rock phase and she was there to listen to every awkward dating experience I had. (P.S. I'm a pretty awkward person. Stephanie said she loved h