Life Is War--see below

Thank you

To those who comment on the blog. It is appreciated. I try to respond on the blog but for some reason my responses don't publish. I don't know why. I will attend to it when I have more time.

Fighting for joy

I was asked yesterday how I'm doing. It was a sincere question from somebody who cares and wanted to know. If I felt he was probably just being polite I would have said something along the lines of being okay. In other words I would just provide an answer. If I felt the question was sincere but I wasn't sure if I wanted to get into it in any particular depth I would have answered with something along the lines of okayish or "I'm doing relatively well."

Both answers are honest but they are limited.

The answer which came spontaneously was "I'm fighting for joy." That answer was absolutely honest.

Truth is I'm in a fight. I'm still in a hard place 91/2 months after Faye's death. Joy is a fight for me.

I have complete faith I will, in God's grace, and with his help and the help of friends, I will know full joy again. I will win. I know that.

But, in reality, all of us are in a fight for joy. Life is hard at times. We need to battle for joy. The fight is worth it.

Press on.

A ball of yarn

There is nothing, absolutely nothing, linear about the grief process. It can far better be compared to a tangled of ball of yarn--this emotion snarled about with that emotion and no predictability about which emotion will rise up next.

The emotion I'm picking out of that ball of yarn at this moment is an intense impatience. I am impatient with the process. I'm tired of it. Even as I fully understand that this is a long, tiring process, I'm tired of it. I'm tired of the lack of focus and the lack of clarity regarding my future. Things will change but I'm impatient.

I'm also impatient--to the edge of irritability--with people and circumstances that I find annoying, or which don't serve me, or serve what I believe to be God's purposes for me.

I don't necessarily like what I see but so be it.

And I press on.

Questions

In my GriefShare group yesterday we talked about questions--or asking why, with the focus for most being asking why of God.

At this point in my healing journey I can honestly say I feel no inclination to rage out questions at God. I have complete trust in His sovereignty, love and goodness. And I honestly don't believe I have the wisdom to understand all the threads that make up my life and made up Faye's life to understand the why.

I have chosen to trust God--period. My lack of Godward questions may change. This journey is nothing if not weird and unpredictable.

What I do have questions about is the down to earth questions about how someone as energetic and full of life and concern for health and apparently healthy as Faye could be taken away so quickly and suddenly. It still doesn't make sense to me.

The autopsy showed a blockage in a coronary artery so she obviously as we thought but I still don't know exactly happened. Could we have done something? (I'm not suffering from guilt. Faye did the best with what she knew, and so did I, so please don't worry about that.)

I actually share Faye's interest in health, that's part of why I raise these questions.

What happened.

Pressing on.

Going meta again

It's interesting, in a strange way, to watch what's happening with my ever volatile emotions.

Right now--Oct. 15, 2018--almost nine months since the day Faye died my emotional state is a new one.

I'm feeling incredibly restless with my life. And I am irritable--considerably more irritable than has been normal for me.

That means this is a particularly dangerous time to make significant changes because I could easily make a bad decision.

So--patience--press into my grief and loneliness and press on.

Arguments

The last few days I've been thinking about the times Faye and I argued. We didn't argue a lot but we did have a few.

Faye was a lot more outspoken than I am. I have a tendency to hold things in. She tended to let me know when she was upset with me. She was also more stubborn than me so I don't think I ever won an argument. :)

I class this with fond memories.

This volatile journey

Today--almost nine months in to my life without Faye--I find I'm missing her more than every.

In many ways I feel better than I did a few months but I miss having her in my life desperately. And that even applies to those many areas in which our personalities clashed and I found her slightly annoying. :)

Just when I think I'm doing really well I find the wound of grief had just scabbed over. But probing that wound is, I am convinced, part of the process, which will bring genuine deep healing.

And so I press on.

This journey is exhausting

My emotions are more tender today than they have been in months. I blame this on a couple of things.

I'm convinced the way I've eaten in the last couple of days has played a part. Bad eating has weakened me physically and mentally and left me prone to sadness. I firmly believe that.

The other thing is Thanksgiving dinner. I was invited to join friends for Thanksgiving. I am very appreciate of the love and I have no regrets about going. I will accept any invitation extended in friendship. It is part of healing.

Having said that, however,  the dinner had me desperately missing my Faye. I could hear her laughing and chatting and bustling about the kitchen helping, without being asked to help because that's who she was. I can also hear her volunteering me to help with something. :)

And then I can hear us chatting on the way home until she pulled out her bone pillow for a nap.

This journey is so desperately convoluted and tiring.

But I press on.

Thanksgiving

I'm thankful that I had 24 good years with an imperfect but beautiful woman. Faye was a treasure to me our hearts truly knitted together and I miss her desperately.

But I am thankful, in fact, that I miss her. I'm not thankful she's gone. What I'm thankful for is that we loved each other and that our hearts knit together. That means that my heart was ripped in half when she died and that I miss her.

In all of that, however, I'm grateful that we loved each other. And that our love guaranteed grief would occur some time. The grief I still feel is the fruit of genuine love. And it is worth it. Really I would not trade those years together for no grief today.

I Will Rise, Sara Petite, 10th Annual Gram Parsons InterNational Nashville--yes I will rise

Flashbacks

It's almost nine months since I lost my Queen. I'm doing a lot better than I was a couple of months ago but I've been fighting flashbacks again of late.

I keep on replaying the last five or six days of Faye's life on this earth. Recently I've been replaying those six days when she was at home battling the flu.

This, indeed, is the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. I will conquer this mountain. And I know God is with me. But this is a long, hard, unpredictable journey.

Pressing on.

Goals and dreams

In the weeks immediately after Faye died I was deeply sad about how frustrated she was about the development of her business.

She worked so hard. She loved her business. She was genuinely coachable and open to direction. (She received direction from too many people, I believe, but that's another discussion.) She was sincere, truthful and earnest.

And yet, for all that, she could not get people to come on board with her or to buy the alkalizing water machine she sold.

So she was frustrated. And she made little progress toward a variety of goals she was pursuing.

When she suddenly died unfulfilled I was sad for her.

But I know, and God affirmed this many times, her life is now fulfilled in the presence of Christ and she is drinking the sweetest water has ever.

Missing her deeply but pressing on into my new life.

Each situation is unique

Every grieving experience is unique. It might be a slight exaggeration to say each experience is as unique as a snowflake but not very.

Every relationship broken by death is different--the loss of a parent has a different impact from the loss of a spouse--just as heartbreaking but different. The loss of a spouse is different than the loss of a child, which is different than the loss of a sibling, which is different from the loss of a friend.

Each one of the losses is devastating; each one is unique.

Further every person suffering through grief is different. For example I've gained weight since Faye died--for a variety of reasons. If it had been reversed I have absolutely no doubt Faye, as slender as she was, would have lost weight.

I've struggled regaining focus, ambition and my work ethic. Faye would have hidden herself in non-stop. Again, I have no doubt about that.

Some people can't stop weeping. I haven't shed a huge number of tears in the last 8 1/2 months. I express grief through words--my pain and loss are no less than that of people who respond tears. It's different.

The faith or lack of faith of an individual impacts grief. Financial circumstances impact it. The way a particular person grieves is also affected the way a couple shared household roles.

The point is that people cannot be judged for the way they respond as individuals. There are far too many factors at play.

Love, support and be available to the grieving people in your life.

Who knew

Over the last few days I've been thinking a lot about Thursday, Jan. 11. That evening Faye came home from a busy day saying she did not feel well at all.

Who knew that would be the last day of work she would put in?

Who knew she would never leave the house again?

Who knew should never feel energetic or healthy again, this side of heaven?

Who knew we would never share a meal together again?

Who knew she would never go to church with me again?

Life is precious and short. Live it well.