Like Joy, Pain is Holy

I read somewhere recently that like joy, pain is
holy and should not be snatched away from us.

We should lean into it and feel it and let it
help us grow.

The past few days have been filled with endless
streams of tears on my part and no matter how hard
I try and stem the tide--they keep slipping down 
my face.

And so I lean into the pain and the tears and let 
them wash over me.

Grace turned 18 on Tuesday and for 3 days she has
been "quiet" and I have felt a sadness coming off
of her in waves that even she didn't realize.

I kept asking her why she was sad (well duh!) and 
what was wrong--

she kept saying nothing.

Then last night she came into my room and said she
finally realized she had been feeling sadness
surround her but (besides the obvious) she couldn't
pinpoint WHY she was feeling the extra sadness.

She realized that it was her birthday and her dad.

Yes, one of those fabulous "firsts" without him.

He was not here to celebrate 18 with her, and while
we all tried our darndest to make it somewhat special,
her dad was still not here to celebrate that milestone
with her.

We can feel the sadness in the air.

It comes in whispery silver waves that wrap around 
us tightly and squeeze us, holding us in its grasp.

It sinks slowly into our hearts and crushes them,
leaving us breathless.

It sneaks up on us and taps us on the shoulder,
some memory that triggers the pain.

I will embrace it though, for it means that the 
man who we most miss was loved.

And our grief is evidence of that love.

So we take baby steps forward every day and
sometimes we fall onto our beds in a heap weeping...
but then we rise again and take another baby 
step forward.

Kyle always promised me that there would be people
around me to love me and help me when he died.

It's interesting that while he was fighting cancer
and ultimately dying, he had an army of people who
loved and cared for him.

Carrying him on his journey from life to death.

That army has somewhat mostly dispersed now--but again
Kyle promised me that others would step in and fill
the holes that I needed filled when the time was right.

And he was right.  I have been blessed to have people,
some of them new, step into my circle now and help
carry me on my journey from Kyle's death to my living 
again.

I am grateful that even on the darkest days that I 
know I am loved.

I am grateful for 4 wonderful children who, while
they all have their own struggles with this, have
been an anchor for me.

I am happy to see glimpses of their father in them
as we muster our courage and move ahead.

I like to think of all the love Kyle had in his heart
extending outward into each of us so that we can
carry on his legacy of love and service.

I like to think that we WILL know joy again someday
and will be filled with laughter and smiles at adventures
to come.

For if we cannot, and do not--then this is a life wasted.

I am grateful to find quiet moments of peace even
on the stormiest of days.

I am grateful for texts and calls begging me to come
and have lunch, or dinner, or just to check on me.

Thanks for letting me turn you down again and again
and still loving me--this is hard.  Being "out" of 
my bubble is hard.  Please don't give up on me, my
heart is healing and growing while I lean into my
grief and pain.

So for now, we lean into our pain--realizing it is 
healing us in the long run.  We embrace our tears
letting them wash through us and carry away some of 
the grief.  We carry on and we love and feel 
a little more deeply than we ever did before.

I miss him, oh how I miss him....
from the tips of my toes to top of my head and
everywhere else in between I miss him.

And that's what I've got for today.