So, I'm not gonna lie, this day ranks right up there -- and that isn't a good thing. It started out as a decent day and then went downhill fast. Now there wasn't one "incident" that led this day to the far reaching under land -- it was just that several things hit at one time. And it's been a LONG time since I've had a day like today, a really LONG time.
So as I'm sitting at work, listening to the rain beat down on the roof -- the building is empty except for 3 other people, I find myself looking for the "lesson" in the rain -- both metaphorically and literally. Those of you who live in Arkansas, know that this has been the year for record rainfall in these parts. It has rained quite literally 23 days in October -- and this ain't Seattle.
So I'm thinking maybe it's a lesson in patience -- and then I remember Job and I don't want to go down that road, so it must be some other lesson. Perseverance maybe, or a lesson in being thankful for what's right in front of you. Or maybe it's a lesson that hasn't yet been revealed to me -- and I'm just supposed to allow the storm to carry me where it will, turbulent waters and all.
I'm not sure what is in store for me, but this isn't the worst day of my life -- I've endured far worse than a little "rain" -- so I'm going to put on my life jacket and hang on for dear life -- and someday I will look back on today and it will have just been a small blemish that I made into a much bigger deal than it really was. I'd say "bring on the rain" but quite frankly this girl needs sunshine. Then it occurs to me, without the rain, sunshine wouldn't be appreciated nearly as much. Hmmm, maybe that's my lesson...
sheri
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
what a weekend...
I'm not gonna lie, today was a killer day. It wasn't killer in the sense of "I worked hard" or anything of that nature. It was emotionally draining. I drove to Mtn. Home yesterday for what was supposed to be a fun weekend "reunion" of sorts with old high school friends (and it was to a very limited extent) but in the process of looking forward to spending time catching up and telling stories and laughing a lot (because that's what we all do when we're together) life happened. My best friend from college lost her momma, so my fun weekend turned into a "support your friend when she needs you the most" weekend.
I guess I didn't take into account that I might somehow be affected in some way other than being sad because momma Jo died and my friend was grieving a huge loss in her life. I mentally "prepared" myself by listening to happy music for the entire drive up. I even wore a dress that kinda makes me happy. And I made it through visitation just fine -- of course, so did she. But today was another beast all together. I fully expected there to be tears, and lots of them. I've been there and there's no way to describe what a girl goes through when your momma dies. But the part I forgot, was how a daddy reacts to the death of his wife. It came out of left field and caught me completely by surprise. And then the flood gates opened.
And not only was I totally unprepared for the magnitude of water pouring from my eyes, I found myself sitting at a funeral without a single tissue in sight. I guess I underestimated my reaction in more ways than one. I was a brownie for all of five minutes and I did learn to "be prepared" -- but today I was unprepared to the nth degree. Note to self: tissue packs for the car and purse are necessary at all times, just in case you need them...
In addition to all of that, I was also sitting by myself -- mind you, I was surrounded by other people, but none that I knew personally. And then at the end of the service, the "ticker tape parade" started. Now I'm not trying to sound cold or callous. I know that different traditions are in place for different families -- some are in place in my own family. But the "walk past the casket in a single file line" part of funerals is not my favorite. First off, the person is no longer present in the room. Secondly, as someone who's been down that road a few times, it's torture to watch other people's reactions to that part of the service. And so for a moment I debated. Do I sneak out the back or fall in line and do what's expected? I did the latter. And when I had walked past (with only a slight glance), tears in my eyes -- I looked at my friend and she mouthed "I love you" and I knew that it was all worth it.
I found myself playing over and over in my head things that I might say to Nikki and her sisters to help them get through this tough time. And then I reminded myself that words won't fix the hurt in their hearts, and they likely won't remember the words of this day past this week. So I put my words on the back burner and was just their friend -- who came to support them on a tough day. I ate lunch with their family. We went back to her dad's house (myself and former classmates/neighbors) and we laughed -- a lot. Mind you, there were only two people that I was actually close to in high school and I wasn't the former neighbor who grew up next door and caused all kinds of trouble. I was the college roommate, former sister-in-law, bridesmaid, and friend who was there to share in the laughter -- and the tears.
I know what her journey will look like -- kinda. But it's her journey, not mine. We share the loss of a mother, but not the moments that led up to that loss. As her friend, I can be an ear when she needs one and a shoulder to cry on. I can be the friend that just listens when she needs to scream and yell (and there will be many days where she wants to scream and yell). The friend she confides in when she thinks it's too heavy a burden to lay on her sisters who are grieving in their own way. And I can offer her encouragement when she gets frustrated by the fact that her daddy's journey of grief won't make sense to her or her sisters. Those will be the things that mean the most to her when she finds herself a little more distanced from the magnitude of grief she feels at this moment. I won't lie, you are forever changed when your momma dies, but if you're fortunate enough to have family and friends that help hold you together on the days when you can't do it for yourself -- you come out a little stronger on the other side. ~sheri
I guess I didn't take into account that I might somehow be affected in some way other than being sad because momma Jo died and my friend was grieving a huge loss in her life. I mentally "prepared" myself by listening to happy music for the entire drive up. I even wore a dress that kinda makes me happy. And I made it through visitation just fine -- of course, so did she. But today was another beast all together. I fully expected there to be tears, and lots of them. I've been there and there's no way to describe what a girl goes through when your momma dies. But the part I forgot, was how a daddy reacts to the death of his wife. It came out of left field and caught me completely by surprise. And then the flood gates opened.
And not only was I totally unprepared for the magnitude of water pouring from my eyes, I found myself sitting at a funeral without a single tissue in sight. I guess I underestimated my reaction in more ways than one. I was a brownie for all of five minutes and I did learn to "be prepared" -- but today I was unprepared to the nth degree. Note to self: tissue packs for the car and purse are necessary at all times, just in case you need them...
In addition to all of that, I was also sitting by myself -- mind you, I was surrounded by other people, but none that I knew personally. And then at the end of the service, the "ticker tape parade" started. Now I'm not trying to sound cold or callous. I know that different traditions are in place for different families -- some are in place in my own family. But the "walk past the casket in a single file line" part of funerals is not my favorite. First off, the person is no longer present in the room. Secondly, as someone who's been down that road a few times, it's torture to watch other people's reactions to that part of the service. And so for a moment I debated. Do I sneak out the back or fall in line and do what's expected? I did the latter. And when I had walked past (with only a slight glance), tears in my eyes -- I looked at my friend and she mouthed "I love you" and I knew that it was all worth it.
I found myself playing over and over in my head things that I might say to Nikki and her sisters to help them get through this tough time. And then I reminded myself that words won't fix the hurt in their hearts, and they likely won't remember the words of this day past this week. So I put my words on the back burner and was just their friend -- who came to support them on a tough day. I ate lunch with their family. We went back to her dad's house (myself and former classmates/neighbors) and we laughed -- a lot. Mind you, there were only two people that I was actually close to in high school and I wasn't the former neighbor who grew up next door and caused all kinds of trouble. I was the college roommate, former sister-in-law, bridesmaid, and friend who was there to share in the laughter -- and the tears.
I know what her journey will look like -- kinda. But it's her journey, not mine. We share the loss of a mother, but not the moments that led up to that loss. As her friend, I can be an ear when she needs one and a shoulder to cry on. I can be the friend that just listens when she needs to scream and yell (and there will be many days where she wants to scream and yell). The friend she confides in when she thinks it's too heavy a burden to lay on her sisters who are grieving in their own way. And I can offer her encouragement when she gets frustrated by the fact that her daddy's journey of grief won't make sense to her or her sisters. Those will be the things that mean the most to her when she finds herself a little more distanced from the magnitude of grief she feels at this moment. I won't lie, you are forever changed when your momma dies, but if you're fortunate enough to have family and friends that help hold you together on the days when you can't do it for yourself -- you come out a little stronger on the other side. ~sheri
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