The Hard Days

 

My plan for the past three weeks was to make my next blog post more light and uplifting, I wanted to write about something positive.  No matter how many times I tried to write the post, I just couldn’t come up with the words to say. Today, after quiet time with God, the words that He wanted me to share came to me easily.

I have spent the past few weeks trying to be strong, dealing with a lot of chaos and uncertainty, and loving and supporting everyone around me. This morning I hit a wall, I was overwhelmed and felt hopeless. I started praying and had a moment of surrender to God and realized that I was trying to do this on my own…. Again. I had to humble myself and accept again that my plan is not God’s plan. I could no longer shut out the pain and sadness that I had been trying to push away for the past few weeks and had to allow myself to grieve again. In that moment, I felt God’s grace and I was reminded that it’s OK not to be OK.  I was trying so hard to be OK and I reached the point of being too exhausted to do it on my own.

That struggle sums up what my life has been like for the past almost 11 months. It has been a battle of being honest with how hard it was to bury my oldest child and live without him here and being stubborn and trying to convince myself and everyone around me that I am OK. So, here is the truth….I am not OK and I won’t truly be OK until I get to Heaven. Derek’s life was taken too soon and he is no longer walking the Earth like he should be. It feels so wrong to continue living life without him here but I have no choice. I long for my old life back, the one that was so simple when I reflect on it. Do I have reasons to smile now, yes. Do I have a good husband and three wonderful children still here with me, yes. Do I have family and friends that love and support me, yes. Do I have daily blessings in my life, yes. Do I have a Heavenly Father to rely on to carry me on this journey, yes. It is still so hard.

The simple things in life are no longer simple without Derek here and I am not OK with that. Saying “table for five” at a restaurant is painful, we are a family of six and he should be here. Watching his friends beginning their senior year in college hurts, he should be there with them. Taking a family picture without him just feels wrong, he should be with us. Having a daughter turn 20, the age that Derek was when he left for Heaven was painful, my younger kids should still have their big brother here. Every time I am asked the now dreaded question, “How many children do you have?”, I feel like I get punched in the stomach. The change in temperature as Fall is getting close causes me to panic sometimes because it is a reminder of that morning in October. The list goes on and on of the simple things that will continue to be difficult without Derek here. This morning I was reminded that I can’t be stubborn and try to face these hard days and weeks alone, I have to trust and lean on Him to help me through each difficult moment.

Thank you Lord for the reminder once again to trust you to carry me everyday  but especially on the hard days.

“Trust in the Lord will all you heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him and he will make your paths straight” Proverbs 3:5-7

Derek

 

 

6 thoughts on “The Hard Days

  1. Love your blog Mel. So open, So honest , Raw emotion. I am sure that someone else has found healing in your words. I honestly think about you everyday. You (and Derek) are my constant reminder to life my chin up on not so perfect days. Bless you ❤

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  2. You have no idea how much your words touch me, and help me. Though at the same time, I feel pain for you and almost guilt from getting comfort from someone else’s grief. Just last night, my sweet nephew, who is the same age my son would be now, called to tell me thank you for the new baby gift I’d sent them-on the very night they had brought their first born home. It meant so much to me that he took the time to call, but I hung up and cried so hard that I thought my heart would burst. It was simple jealously and grief of what we won’t experience. This is TWELVE years after we lost our child. You are so right. I will not be alright again until I am in heaven with my child, and also with my mom whom I lost (from cancer) when I was only 10 years old.Thank goodness for my faith, my wonderful, sweet and understanding husband and sisters, and for my incredible Daddy who set such an example for me after losing his wife at 36 years old, and with 4 young daughters to raise. Also-than goodness for YOU, and the Godly example that you give to me, to always trust in HIM and to not try to travel this road alone. The first anniversary is hardest, but I won’t lie, they are all hard. The first though is the hardest. I will pray very hard for you and your family. My best advice is to stay busy, surround yourself with happy and loving people, and most of all, celebrate the life of the child that you were blessed with for the short time you were gifted. It takes so much strength and energy just to be “ok” for those around you. They love you, and worry when you are not alright. I get it. It literally wears you down to the core. Be sure to take care of YOU too, and make some time just to BE, and do what brings you joy. Much love…

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    • Thank you and please do not feel guilty, It helps my grieving heart to know that someone else can identify and find comfort in my words. I am dreading the first anniversary ahead but trusting that God will help me each step of the way. I understand what you mean about jealousy and grief of what we will miss. I am so thankful for Derek’s friends and that have remained in our lives but it hurts to watch them continuing to live their lives without him. I appreciate your advice and prayers so much. It helps me to hear from mothers that are farther down this heartbreaking road. Hugs to you

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  3. Melody,
    You have probably read this from “7 Things I’ve Learned Since the Loss of My Child” by Angela Miller.

    “3). I will grieve for a lifetime.
    Period. The end. There is no “moving on,” or “getting over it.” There is no bow, no fix, no solution to my heartache. There is no end to the ways I will grieve and for how long I will grieve. There is no glue for my broken heart, no exilir for my pain, no going back in time. For as long as I breathe, I will grieve and ache and love my son with all my heart and soul. There will never come a time where I won’t think about who my son would be, what he would look like, and how he would be woven perfectly into the tapestry of my family. I wish people could understand that grief lasts forever because love lasts forever; that the loss of a child is not one finite event, it is a continuous loss that unfolds minute by minute over the course of a lifetime. Every missed birthday, holiday, milestone– should-be back-to-school school years and graduations; weddings that will never be; grandchildren that should have been but will never be born– an entire generation of people are irrevocably altered forever.
    This is why grief lasts forever. The ripple effect lasts forever. The bleeding never stops.”

    I love your phrase “it’s OK not to be OK.” We have to receive God’s grace, give ourselves grace, and show that grace to others who can’t understand, to be able to survive this. Always praying! Hugs!

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