You never know just when or where it will hit you.
About a month ago, I was part of a community church service with my Wesleyan and Catholic colleagues. After the service, there was a community meal. On my way out, I saw a boy coming in to partake in the meal.
I recognized him, but I couldn't remember where it was from.
Then it hit me.
Last summer (2013), my church partnered up with the Wesleyan church to put on a community movie night. We projected a film on the wall of the community center, we had free drinks and popcorn, and we invited the whole community.
We had a good turnout. About halfway through the film, a mother and son wandered over to see what was up. The little boy wanted popcorn, but you could tell that the mother was hesitant because she didn't know if it cost anything. Someone told the little boy that the popcorn was free and he came running to his mother shouting, "It's free! The popcorn's free!"
This kid was stoked about some popcorn.
It brought tears to Tiffany's eyes. To know that she was a part of something that made this little boy so happy meant the world to her. It was the sort of thing she lived for. It was the sort of thing that motivated her to work on our community projects. She just loved to help others.
That's where I recognized the little boy from.
It took me right back to that movie night.
It took me right back to the heart of my compassionate wife.
I cried the whole way down the alley walking back to my church from the community center.
That's what grief does to you.
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Some of you may have noticed that I haven't written on this blog for a while. In fact, I was just commenting the other day to some friends that I didn't know when I would write on here again.
It's not that I'm "over it" or done with grieving, there just didn't seem to be anything worth saying on here. The blog had been my outlet, and it helped me a lot. But, I didn't feel compelled to "make" myself sit down and blog if I didn't have anything new that needed to be said.
That being said, can you guess why I'm writing this post?
I needed an outlet.
I've been in a funk.
And you never really know that you're in a funk until you step back and take a look at yourself. It takes some self awareness.
My friends with depression have told me that it's like you see a dark cloud coming, but you fail to realize you're already standing under one.
I know the feeling.
The last time I was in a funk like this, it was the weeks leading up to our wedding anniversary.
I was unmotivated, I was emotional, and I felt lonely in a crowded room.
Guess how I've been feeling lately...
Check, check, and check.
So, I started doing the math. I felt this way before our anniversary, a milestone in the first year of grief.
Guess what's coming up...
another milestone.
My ordination is less than three weeks away.
This was a day that she and I had been working toward together. A day that was the completion of a goal we set together. A stepping stone in the vision of our lives together.
And she's not here to celebrate it. She's not here to see the destination reached. She's not here to see the goal accomplished.
And that hurts. It hurts down deep.
I think I figured out why I've been in a funk.
Now, that doesn't mean I've spent my recent days in complete misery.
I've been spending time with the best friends and family that a guy could ask for.
I went hunting in Wyoming with my Dad.
I worked in a haunted house with my good friends the other night.
I still watch wrasslin every Monday with some of my best friends.
And, I still record a podcast with my best friends.
But, none of that will ever fill the Tiffany sized hole in my heart.
Nothing will.
The motorcycle, the records, the concerts, the tattoos, the golfing, the guns, the travel adventures...
None of it will ever fill the Tiffany sized hole in my heart.
The real trick is to enjoy and appreciate everything that I mentioned above for what they are.
They will never fill the Tiffany sized hole in my heart, and I should never fool myself into thinking that they will.
I love my friends and family, and I enjoy the things I do. But, the hole remains. I just have to continue to allow the space around the hole to grow larger and be filled with more love. (Refer to this previous post for reference)
And, I have to continue being patient with myself. It's only been ten months.
I will always grieve the loss of my beautiful wife. And, that grief will continue to sneak up on me the rest of my life.
But, I must continue to heal and move forward. I have to continue living a life worth living. But, I must remember to be kind to myself along the way.
I'm glad I wrote this post, I feel a little bit better already. But, I'm not stopping here. I made an appointment to see my grief counselors on Tuesday, they'll work me over pretty good.
Grace, Mercy, and Peace to you all,
Robert
p.s. I found this old note from Tiffany when I was cleaning out the house and I hung it up in my office. She would always stick little notes on my sink or in my bag before I left for a trip. I know that she is still looking over me with these words...
