I have found it a struggle to write during the past weeks. I struggle to wrap my brain around the fact that Julia is not here. I visit my brother and listen to his list of post death chores. It is unbelievable or unthinkable that there are those who call him and question decisions he has made. He simply did everything Julia asked of him.
I remember when our baby was critically ill and the doctors said "Prepare yourself, he isn't likely to make it through this." And, I thought, how do you prepare yourself? You are praying for a miracle, wouldn't preparing for disappointment reveal a lack of faith?
And we had an entire year to know that Julia would die from the melanoma. We didn't prepare because we were praying she would live. Later we were simply praying that she would live to see her daughter graduate college in May.
Three years of battling cancer and yet it seemed so sudden. I asked my brother, "Do you feel that it was too quick." And he answered, "Yes, even though Julia took a last look around our house before we left for the hospital."
Even though she told him she would not be returning home. It still seemed too soon.
Grief takes time, some say an entire year of firsts must go by before you can really move on. The first birthday, the first Christmas, etc.
Death is somewhat like birth. Mysterious and miraculous, too. Is it always such a surprise? The wonder of new life and the marvel of life leaving us to be with Jesus.
I know that thirty three years later I still feel a pang of sadness when I think of my baby. No wonder, only 6 weeks later I have not fully accepted that a family member is no longer on the earth. Why does the world not allow time to grieve. Why must we be rushed to return to our 'normal' routine. Even at church the bereavement/prayer list only posted Julia's name for one week. What?
With our baby the thought that haunted me was, "I forgot to put a blanket around him in the tiny casket." As if he would feel cold.
With Julia it is that I wanted to tell her to go find my daughters' babies and hold them for us until we arrived. (I promise I am not losin it. It is 2 a.m. and I think I might actually be asleep) I didn't tell her that because she was still fighting to live.
And we were still praying for a miracle.
Perhaps it is God's desire that we never feel totally content here on earth. There are better things, better times, in a better place.
OK, I think I am beginning to ramble. My point was, I have had trouble focusing on writing. Maybe writing the above has loosened the strap of grief around my heart.
Maybe the weekend at the Prayer Spa helped. Thank you Jesus!
Maybe in the morning I will read this and it won't make sense. But, God will make sense of it for me.
And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain:
for the former things are passed away.
Revelation 21:4
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