Isolation

I've been working my way through the Grief Recovery Handbook. One of the exercises is identifying dangers to the recovery process.
My number one danger clearly, clearly, is isolation.
I honestly don't believe I'm in that place. I have people in my life. And I have a business and I do get out and about.
But I would find it easy to withdraw. Faye was my extroverted, sociable, other half. She kept drawing people into our lives and drawing me into people she had met.
I don't have that in my life anymore. Being extroverted Faye is deeply difficult for me. And, honestly, I have a tendency to believe I can make it on my own.
I'm not going to be Faye but I need people in my life. So I will choose to press into that.

Truth

One of the things I wonder about is the need for  grieving people to be truthful about the person they've lost.

I have been absolutely truthful about Faye. I honestly believe she had the most beautiful smile in the world. I believe every word I've said about her lack of guile and the sweetness of her heart. She was honest to the bone--truly.

But I'm not confident Faye is in Heaven today because of how good she was. She's in Heaven because of God's grace and her reliance on grace for salvation.

In addition to be all those genuinely good things Faye was also a driven workaholic. Which meant it was hard to get her to slow down and spend an evening relaxing with me. She needed to be reminded to say hello before asking me to help with a challenge she was having with her computer.

I fully believe Faye is busy in Heaven as she was on earth, with every element of the curse fallen off.

A wonderful, sweet lady, yes. Perfect, no. And I'm smiling while writing.

This is hard work

Dealing with grief is hard work. Recovering my life consumes an enormous amount of energy. Whether I choose to focus energy on a grieving process, as I am doing, or you simply drift through life after serious it will consume energy.
It is tiring physically and it is emotionally draining to grieve.
And I can't book a weekend off. Grief doesn't work that way. I have good moments and even days. I am getting my life together. But thoughts of my sweetheart are never far away. And while memories are slowly getting sweeter sadness is rarely far away.
My point is--grief recovery is work. Hard work. And there is no time off.
I am dependent on the grace and love of God. And I keep moving forward, sometimes by millimetres a day.
But I do grind forward.

The last thing

The very last thing Faye did in this life was to run a mug of the water she loved to drink. She managed to turn the tap off before her mug overflowed and then her sweet heart stopped.
In the very next instant she was in the presence of Jesus and able to drink from the sweetest water she had ever tasted.
I am happy for her. Truly, I am. I'm entirely confident she is alive today in the presence of Jesus.
But my continues to ache. And I don't believe there is any contradiction in that.
To grieve and to rejoice simultaneously is a paradox but not a contradiction.
I rejoice for her, but I miss her.

Vera Lynn - We'll Meet Again; But I do know where, not when but where.

Her great reward

The Lord has been reminding me repeatedly that death was not, somehow, punishment for Faye, it was her great reward.
The first chapter is past but a glorious future has begun.
I grieve, but with confidence and even joy for my Faye.

This journey

This journey I'm on is longer and harder than anyone who hasn't taken it can know.

Daily sadness remains a reality. I'm doing much, much better than I was a couple of months ago but I've realized the focus of my life is still scratching my way off the mountain I was stranded on January 17.

I will conquer this mountain. God is with me. But the battle continues.