Three months later
It’s been just over three months.
Three months since my husbands’ dad didn’t return from a hunting trip.
Three months since he hopped into his car to go join the search crew.
Three months since my pregnant sister came in the dark of night to lay in my bed with me and wait.
Three months since I dropped the phone on the floor and screamed when the text came.
Just four words. But they said everything.
The rest of the world moved on. Life crawled forward. Each of us is processing differently. Very differently.
One wants to talk. Another doesn’t. One cries. One doesn’t.
The covering of sadness still rests here regardless of the joy we have experienced in the meantime.
I have no idea how long it will stay. I think for a while longer. But there is no manual for this. No map of what is ahead. Just one day after one day after one day.
We can choose to remember or we can choose to forget.
We can choose hardness and anger or we can choose tender softness even though it hurts more.
We can choose to turn inward or outward and let someone hold our hand.
We can fuss and fret over small stuff or we can let things go and be thankful for what we’ve been given.
Life. Health. Beauty. Love.
Seems to me that we are in a constant state of choosing.
Just when I think the kids don’t think about it….one who’s only 3 prays at the dinner table “please God, let Grammy live forever, don’t let her die too”….or I find the kids in the family room “playing funeral Mama, I’m pretending my baby son died”. I let them be. We have not forced anything with them. We have offered space to process and feel in all our different ways. Just listened and loved and answered question after question as they walk the path with us.
One sure thing is we aren’t the same. We won’t be the same. Love and loss leave a mark.
I think it’s largely up to us to choose what kind of mark. One mark of bitterness or one of grace.