Saturday morning when I got up, the house was quiet. Tears starting pouring from my eyes and it alarmed me because I didn't feel sad
I'd been sick all week long with my son. We'd had a virus that left us wiped. But that wasn't the cause of my emotion. I thumbed through my thoughts trying to find the source of this sudden onslaught of tears.
I don't like sharing the room with hopelessness, but I could tell it was near. As I dug through the files of my mind, I found what had triggered it. It was the Amber alert that ended with a child dying. How do parents handle something like that? No one should have to.
But I knew it wasn't just for them my tears were streaming. I was grieving. Grieving for things that shouldn't be.
Things like a house standing empty that's held decades of love for you and your kids. We'd just had the estate sale for my mother-in-law's house and put it on the market. Seeing it bare was hard. I know selling it will only cement the fact that she's gone forever.
No life should be over so easily ~ young or old.
Why do things have to be hard? Why do people get away with horrible crimes? Why do we have to say goodbye?
It's not like I don't know this about life, I do. But sometimes it washes over me like a giant wave and I can't breathe.
So I just let myself weep. I hate that things don't tie up in pretty bows. I despise that one moment in time can shatter a family. I regret not being able to say one last thing.
And yet I know this is grief. I'm familiar with it. Sometimes I get out of its flow long enough to think I'm out of it for good. But I'm not sure we escape grief. It grows softer over the years, but never disappears.
Most of the time I don't drown in this feeling. But sometimes I see wretchedness and I just have to cry for it. Sometimes I scream into my pillow because of things that should not be.
Sometimes I share the room with hopelessness because I know hope will grow again; it just needs a little watering.