I miss you … deeply.
I miss family dinners and ridiculous banter about nonsensical things.
I miss the belonging, flavours of family wafting through the kitchen on Sundays.
I miss the history you carry, the stories and the traditions that would have strengthened their anchors and steadied their gaze.
I miss you too… I used to believe our friendship forged in the fires of Mount Doom was unbreakable.
Sadly as the adage goes all good things come to an end.
Must they really?
I’ve been adjusting to a new type of grief lately. In some ways, it has been a challenge to handle because it is intangible and difficult to explain. I cannot pinpoint an end date. There is no burial place. No funeral was held. There is nothing tangible to mark the end of this thing. In an article The Best Definition of Grief, Russel Friedman defines grief as “the conflicting feelings caused by the end of or change in a familiar pattern of behavior.”
I am talking about grieving the living; friendships and relationships that I once held dear that I can no longer hold on to. In some of the instances, I have no opportunity to say goodbye or tell my side of the story. They simply came to grossly inaccurate conclusions and decided that a relationship with me was not in their best interest. Others came when a relationship came to a fork in the road and both of us headed down separate paths. We used to be able to connect and discuss the intricacies of the path we were on, no judgement, no conversation off limits. Then the conversations started to lose depth and now we feel like strangers holding to a shadow of what once was.
Emotional pain is a familiar institution in my heart. I thought I knew it well. But now I am discovering new hallways and rooms I didn’t know before and I am … drowning. Sinking to unexplored ocean floors where creatures of depression and anguish jab at my heart in unexpected moments because I can’t see my way through. It seems like Ive lost my vocabulary, my ability to express my feelings with words. Instead I eat them, my feelings that is, hoping carbohydrates will provide the endorphins I need to push me out of this cave. What could be worse than this? Losing hope because hope hurts. What if I am disappointed again; hurt again? What if happiness is the ethereal guest and anguish is the reality?
Heavy emotions, I know. And typically this is the part of the blog post I say something really inspirational to pull you out of your struggle. Here is a nugget of truth for you. Healing is a process that takes time, intentionality and lots of help from Jesus (if you are going to do it deep and do it right). Hope hurts and is scary but that’s why we need faith to reach for what we cannot see. No you may not feel better after reading this. Frankly, I’m still reeling, still healing and everyday I must ask God to help my unbelief and to give me a daily ration of the bread (the strength, wisdom and courage) to face that day and jump the next hurdle. If I’m honest the pain is still palpable but I’m doing better than 4 years ago 3 months ago and better than last week. I’m not where I want to be or where I will be but I’m not where I was. Be gentle with yourself. You made it this far. Rest in this truth… He that began a good work in you is faithful to complete it.
I pray with great faith for you , because I’m fully convinced that the One who began this glorious work in you will faithfully continue the process of maturing you and will put his finishing touches to it until the unveiling of our Lord Jesus Christ!
Philippians 1:6 TPT
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photo credit: https://isaw.company/2017/11/16/vapours-of-sadness/