He's been gone a month today...

When the Psalmist talks about walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, he knew it was a journey. One doesn't just walk into it; one walks through it. Whether you are the person who is doing the dying, passing from this life to eternity, or if you are a family member or friend who has lost someone in death, we must all walk through that dark Valley at one time or another. I am thankful that while I am in the midst of it, "I will fear no evil. The Lord is with me."

I can't believe my father has been gone for nearly three weeks.* The first ten days after he died were so busy with traveling to and from funerals and then spending some much-needed time with my family, that I don't think my deep grieving could begin until the dust settled a bit. The dust has settled, and I have entered fully into this process called grief. 

I cry every day. I’m fine one hour; the next, I’m in tears; and the next, I’m back to normal…it’s almost like letting steam out of a pressure cooker–releasing pressure in increments. I’m just having to accept that it’s not that I have moments of sadness–it’s that I’M SAD. I’m very sad, and I will be for as long as the sadness lasts. The sadness isn't paralyzing, but it is present. I know that it will get easier as time goes by, and that the sun will start to come out. But for now, I’m just sad, and that’s the way it is for this season.

When I asked my husband about losing his father, he told me that the hole is always there, but the edges around it heal and become less raw. In a way, I find that comforting, because even though the hole represents the loss of our loved ones, its enduring presence gives testimony to how much those people meant to us. They meant so much that their absence from our lives now will never go unnoticed. It won’t hurt as much, but we will always love and miss them. I don’t think I’d want it any other way.

*I wrote this post on Sunday, June 29th, in the midst of a week that I was really feeling sad. This week has been easier, and I'm honestly not sure why. Grief tends to come in waves for me, and I guess I'm just riding the waves as they come. For now, though, I'm enjoying a calmer sea. Thanks to all of you who have been praying for me and thinking about me. Your care and concern mean so much.