Grief is itself a medicine. . .

 . . . that’s a quote by William Cowper.  I like it.

Grief is a funny thing.  It creeps up on you when you least expect it and rushes at you with the force of a 350 pound football player.  You want to jump aside or at least run the other way, but it comes so quickly and without warning you absolutely can not get out of the way.  I’ve come to be familiar with these surprise rushes of emotions and most often others don’t even know they are happening.  There are other times, though, when I am left with this indescribable sense of yuck that leaves me feeling raw for days.  I had one of those this weekend.

Our families came together to celebrate the kids birthdays and we had a wonderful afternoon.  The presents had been opened, lunch eaten, and the cakes had been cut and we were all just hanging out.  My Dad and my brother and sister were side by side and someone was taking their picture. . .

Being the forgotten middle child that I am (a joke) I quickly exclaimed, “Hey, I need to be in that picture!”  and ran to jump in behind my Dad. . .

Sorry for the blurry pic
. . . and that’s when it hit me. . .This is the first picture of just the four of us. 
The lump in my throat was the size of a watermelon and my eyes glistened immediately.  I’m not sure if my family felt it or even had the thought, but I couldn’t escape it.  These are the moments when I just want to run and pretend none of it happened. . . that my Mom is still here.  It probably seems strange since we are married and have our own families and lives now. . . but even at 32, I still want my Mom.
I recognize that people everywhere experience loss every single day.  Sometimes it is the loss of a loved one and other times its the loss of a dream or any of the countless number of losses we have.  Now I understand that behind the smiles and the moving forward with everyday life there is still a throbbing ache in the heart.  There really is no changing it. . . it just is.  Sometimes it helps to acknowledge it and say, “Hey!  Just because everything appears to be fine on the outside and I still laugh and smile and get the day-to-day things done. . . it still hurts”. 

I don’t want this blog to be all about the loss of my Mom, but I do want to acknowledge that this is the season I am in and some days are better than others. 

This space helps me heal.


But just as the sun can burst through the clouds in an instant and transform what was an overcast morning into an afternoon of abundant light. . .  I can always find things that make me smile and produce such joy. . .  every. single. day. 

Like last night when Chanelle said to Chad, “Now, I’ll be the princess and you can be the prince and we can dance.  Can you turn on the music.?

And when Chad turned on the music and picked up his baby girl she quickly informed him of the “right” way.
“No Daddy, you need to put your hand here (pointing to her waist) and hold my hand like this (holding her hand up in perfect dance pose) and my feet need to be on the ground in the living room.
(I really don’t make it a habit to watch Dancing With The Stars with Her).

And afternoons like this when I walk along the road with my little girl as we wait for her brother to be done with school.  I watch her and am so aware of all that is right and beautiful and good.

And so goes this life. . . moments of heartache intertwined with moments of joy. . .
While I wish I could bypass the hard times, I have become aware that the moments of joy and even the beauty of the everyday moments have become so much more vivid when seen from the shadow of the heartache.   

  • Ky • - November 2, 2010 - 2:48 pm

    Oh, I'm crying for you right now, friend.

    I don't have the words to say, but I support you with my whole heart.

    And please know that this space that you're in – this season – is welcome here and safe in this forum.

    You're loved.ReplyCancel

  • Rachael Hammett - November 7, 2010 - 1:25 am

    Oh Summer, I am so sorry for your loss. Sometimes we can prepare ourselves for times that we know the pain of loss will hurt, such as birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, but at other times, the pain of loss seems to leap out when we least expect it. I am so thankful for your relationship with Jesus and for the woman you are because of your relationship with Him, and your response to all that He has given you. That's not to say, as you share in your post that you don't cry or miss your mom at times, but you constantly return to a perspective of thankfulness, choosing to dwell on all that you have…He does give us all that we need, in our time of need. Love you.ReplyCancel

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