9. Lessons from My Last Day in Grief

Written Thursday, April 16, 2020 / Day 248 / Morning

My last day in the state of grief was what you could call “normal” for my journey.

It was Saturday, February 29, 2020.

Awakening to the usual question I would raise, “So where are we today?”, I proceeded to get ready to meet a dear friend - a fellow grief-sufferer for lunch.

Those days - when I would be meeting someone for lunch - would focus me a bit more. On those days I had an obligation.

Obligations were the engine that drove my life. Without them, the underlying feeling was, “Why bother?”.

But on this day, there was a bit more than the usual inertness.

I had my quick bowl of cereal and vitamins and headed off to meet my friend.

We relate quite well. My friend lost his dear wife (a close person friend of ours) a year and nine month previously after an intense episode with cancer. He has a loving family around him that has helped him physically. We share what they cannot provide.

Leaving the restaurant I ran a few errands and returned home.

Activities always masked the dark underpinnings of my life. They were a welcome relief from the daily reality of dealing with everything.

Prayers are always a part of my days. They help me to just take in the moment for all the good that is in them - despite what the harsh reality of what grief is providing in the background of those days.

As humans, we do get used to things - even that sadness and relentlessness of what grief has to offer. My intense prayer of the previous Sunday - beseeching God for a conversation in this lonely and empty place echoing in my mind.

On a day like this one - all of that somewhat tempered by the activities of the day - I reflected on the previous two days. On each day I had met others for lunch. So in my world - it was almost like a trip to Disneyland. All those people - those interactions, being able to share and talk - all comforting.

As the last afternoon approached, I headed over to my son’s home for dinner. We often play a board game together - they like a game called “Ticket to Ride” which is an interesting strategy game. I’m surprised I do all right with it in my current state.

Returning home that evening - it was just like all the others in general. Driving home to my empty home - to address the final moments of the day.

Those final moments where I go through the steps I do every day. Being a Saturday evening, getting my clothes together for my new church family on Sunday. Getting what I will need ready since, unlike any other day, even my lunch days, I have to get up in somewhat of a “normal” pre-grief model - early and focused.

In that way, these new Sundays bring back a bit of what was. They have been the most positive day of my week. This next one would be my eighth week of attending.

As Saturday was ending, as each day did, with me contemplating all that I was experiencing, my prayer would always be for what was going to happen next.

I would look back to realize I was getting ready to visit my new Church family for the eighth time. I would reflect on how positive the experience has been. Different and awkward at times - but never being really uncomfortable. There was a settled feeling there - people I felt like I knew but had not really had the time with them to develop a deeper relationship.

Reflecting on how I shared my essays with one of the elders and ministers so they could get to know me and my situation better as I was getting to know them.

Reflecting on how I had been attending an extra Thursday night Bible Study for several weeks - getting to know that group a bit better.

It was something that was adding to my life. It was disarming - in some small way - comforting despite the daily difficulties with the grief journey I was on. All of this with the continual emptiness of the life I was enduring each day.

Little did I know - this would be my last day of the intense, overpowering grief that was a part of the journey. The last day I would be in this totally awful place - alone physically - longing for a time when I would have some real relief. To be freed from this unrelentingly intense world that was underneath my every day. My every moment.

All of that was about to change.

To change in a way I could never have anticipated.

In a way I could have never foreseen.

Knowing continually that God would be delivering me in His time. Every moment reminding me that the moment I was in was not the moment I longed for.

Until tomorrow.

That’s how faith is - the hope in a heart that is not yet visible. I knew that a day would come when I would see that change.

Who knew is was going to be the next day.

Read Volume 7 - Essay #9 “The Answer” - the story of the day my faith became a reality.

The lesson of faith God taught me as only He can.